


Sterek All Soulmate AU's

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Awkwardness, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Soulmates, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Soulmates, happy endings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2247060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every soulmate AU I know of in Stiles/Derek drabbles, because I've suddenly gotten hooked on Teen Wolf. Just one oneshot per soulmate idea, but I may add more than one if I write more. Plus I'm adding some weird AU's in here because I'm having fun with Sterek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Name on the Wrist 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this right here is the Name on the Wrist AU (or idea, whatever) and it's longer than necessary, but whatever. I'll probably do more of these, just a warning. And, hey, if you have a Soulmate AU you want to see, I'll add it to my list and we'll go from there.

When Stiles was little, he was excited about the name of his wrist. He put in all his effort to discreetly find out the full name of every stranger he met, looking for Derek A. Hale. It was the most important thing ever to him, and when he was tired of being subtle and full out asked people if their name was Derek Hale, his mom would laugh and pet his head.

He finally found out who Derek Hale was when his mom said hello to Talia Hale in the grocery store. They'd talked for a little bit while Stiles tried to grab the sugary cereal he loved from a shelf just a little too high for him. Finally, his mother and Talia bid each other good bye and Talia and grabbed her son's hand and said, "Come along, Derek," sweetly.

It only took Stiles a second to make the connection, but by the time he got off the shelf and wheeled around, the Hales were near the door. Stiles opened his mouth to yell, but realized he was in public and that his mother would probably scold him. He settled for memorizing everything he could of Derek's appearance so when he saw him again he could tell him.

And Stiles did see him again. A couple times, in fact. But he could never work up the nerve to actually talk to the boy. And when the Hale house burned down, and Derek and Laura moved away, Stiles knew he'd lost his chance. Then his mother passed away, and Stiles nearly stopped thinking about something he'd long ago labeled impossible. Of course, that didn't stop him from going for something a tad less impossible, in the form of a model-esque strawberry blonde.

Then Scott got bitten by a whateverthefuckitwas and Stiles and Scott went into the forest to find Scott's inhaler, and the other half of the body that Scott had said he'd found. Only it wasn't there. And he knew Scott was the worst liar ever, so Scott had at least thought the body was here.

And then, of course, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding had to come out of the shrubbery and Stiles recognized him instantly because, hell, he'd memorized those features, no matter how much Derek had changed over the years. But this was private property, and in such a harsh tone, too. Stiles decided that blurting out, "Oh hey, funny story, you're actually my soul mate," was a pretty bad idea, so he pretended he didn't know exactly who Derek was and told the truth, that they'd had no idea this land actually belonged to somebody. Then they got the fuck out of there, half because Mr. Eyebrows was freaking scary, and half because Stiles wasn't sure he could hold his tongue much longer.

Next, of course, Scott was actually a freaking werewolf, and when Stiles had made that joke he'd been joking. But that was just his life, right, so when he tried to tell Scott to not go out with Allison, at least not tonight, Scott nearly decapitated him with his claws. Then he shoved his right wrist up in Stiles face and it said Allison G. Argent, and Stiles pretended not to notice the curly handwriting on his other wrist as well.

Derek was a werewolf too, it turned out, which was just Stiles' freaking luck, because of course his life would center around beings that everybody else considered imaginary. Also, apparently he was the only logical thinker in their group right now, because Derek seemed to think that shoving people against things like walls and car doors was the perfect solution to everything, and Scott couldn't stop chasing after Allison even though his life was on the line because of this mysterious Alpha.

Stiles tried not to be too disappointed when Derek didn't react at all to learning his name. Not even a flinch, or an incredulous glance at his wrist. Stiles would be okay with having his name on Derek's wrist and Derek not wanting it there, because he could make it work over time. But it looked like his name wasn't on Derek's wrist at all, and Stiles had to pretend that didn't absolutely crush his soul. He started wearing a watch over his wrist, and wore long sleeved jackets more often.

Then the crazy hunters, and Peter not being in a coma anymore. Stiles tried not to let his heart flutter when Derek saved him from his crazy uncle, because was absolutely not a damsel in distress, and he could handle himself well enough. Maybe not against werewolves, but still, he could at least keep himself from going all southern belle in the middle of a fur-and-claws battle.

He tried not to let Derek's betrayal sting too much, or his violence towards Stiles every time Stiles did, well, anything. He tried not to think too much about how Derek clearly had a name in curly black lettering on his own wrist, and at his non-reaction to Stiles' name, it obviously wasn't Stiles H. Stilinski. In fact, on the matter of soul mates, he tried not to think at all.

Derek is missing but Stiles is ignoring it because he actually feels the slightest bit grateful at not having his soul mate here physically harming him and shoving it up in his face that he doesn't have Stiles' name on his wrist the way Stiles has Derek's. And he knows that there's a way to find Derek, but he almost doesn't want to, because Derek cares more about Scott than him, and Stiles wants to just leave it the fuck alone.

Then the night of the winter formal, and his heart hurt just a little less when Lydia told him to pick her up at her house and have a corsage ready, preferably white. She wasn't his soul mate, and he wasn't hers, but people who weren't soul mates got together all the time, because of early deaths or vicious family feuds, and sometimes even soul mate dysfunction (which Stiles tried not to think about either, because he was at least eighty-two percent sure he had it). They were discriminated against, sure, but Stiles could deal.

Of course, everything had to go wrong. He'd just persuaded Lydia to dance with him, and suddenly Scott is outside almost getting squished by the Argent's. (And seriously, Kate had had a hunch. What would have happened if Scott wasn't a freaking werewolf? Scott would either die, or have to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life, that's what.) Peter comes and scratches Lydia up to nearly the point of bleeding out on the lacrosse field, and Jackson's being a fucking asshole about everything.

Somehow it all amounts to Stiles looking at the body of a dead nurse and then being forced at claw-point to find the bastard that Stiles doesn't want to find. Of course, he feels guilty about Derek having been tortured, but maybe he feels just a little satisfaction as well, which only makes him feel more guilty.

He really actually doesn't want the bite Peter offered him, because he's seen what happened to Scott. His heart stutters because Peter's chosen his wrist with the name on it, and if his watch was a millimeter looser, Peter would know exactly who Stiles' soul was attached to, and exactly whose soul wasn't attached to Stiles'.

Everything happens really fast after that, and suddenly he's clambering out of his car and setting fire to what looks like a mix between Big Foot and a ginormous wolf with a self-igniting Molotov cocktail (which he also knows how to make, thank you very much!) And his so-called soul mate is actually a huge dick who kills Peter before Scott can, therefore making it impossible for Scott to ever not be a werewolf.

Also, of course Derek bit Jackson! As if Stiles didn't have enough proof that his soul was a freaking masochist because not only did he have soul mate dysfunction, but his soul mate dysfunction was to somebody who couldn't be a bigger jerk if they tried. 

But then he remembers those tiny little glimpses of Derek when it actually seems like his heart might not be made of stone. He bit Isaac, yes, but he bit him because his father was an even bigger asshole than Derek. He bit Erica because she hated her life, and had even considered suicide at least once a day. Boyd too. He hadn't just gone around biting healthy, strong teens who'd said yes because it seemed awesome. He gave the bite to people who deserved it, and who could handle it. And then he took care of them.

And slowly, so slowly that even Stiles didn't really notice it until he had a moment of revelation when Derek growled at him instead of using physical force, Stiles grew closer with Derek. Through Derek biting people, and Jackson turning back into himself, then Erica and Boyd almost dying, and Derek almost dying. Lacrosse and Cross Country season, Cora almost dying, Derek un-Alphaing and Scott Alphaing, and Scott, Allison, Lydia, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Stiles, and Derek evolving into a pack, and then taking in the twins and Jackson once more. By the beginning of the summer between Junior and Senior year, they had a healthy (if rather large) pack, and almost never tried to rip each other's throats out.

Stiles still tried not to think about soul mates and soul bonds, but it was harder as the pack settled with each other. Allison, Isaac, and Scott were soul mates, all together in a threesome. Erica and Boyd were soul mates. He couldn't even pretend to be obsessed with Lydia anymore, because she saw right through it, and was with Jackson anyway. Ethan and Danny turned out to be soul mates, but Danny wasn't quite pack. Aiden still hadn't found his soul mate, which left he, Stiles, and Derek as the only single ones (plus Peter, but Stiles didn't count him, seeing that he was a creepy old man who lurked around teenagers far too often for his own good), and Stiles focused a lot on the fact that Derek was still single. He tried not to, but his thoughts, at least, were his own.

Of course, Jackson's family had a beach house as well, and Jackson managed to convince his parents that it would be beneficial to his friend group to bond over two weeks on the beach, away from everybody else. They would have Derek Hale and his uncle (they couldn't tell anybody about Peter's real name, because he was supposedly missing and comatose) to supervise him, and Jackson promised that they wouldn't destroy the beach house. Since Jackson practically had his parents under his thumb because of the whole "adopted but still perfect" son thing, they readily agreed, and the next thing Stiles knew he was helping Erica choose which three swimsuits she had to bring.

They brought three cars, and Stiles nearly threw a fit because the Jeep wasn't one of them. Jackson's Porsche, in which Jackson, Lydia, and Ethan rode. Erica's minivan, in which Erica, Boyd, Scott, Allison, Aiden, Isaac, and Peter rode in. Which left just Stiles and Derek in the Camero, and it was literally the most awkward car ride Stiles had ever experienced, including the one he'd been in with Scott and Mrs. McCall after the whole werewolf reveal.

In the middle of the car ride, they came across a red light that the others had just barely managed to squeeze past, but Derek and Stiles were stuck at. While they waited, Stiles caught Derek staring at his own wrist and muttering something. At Stiles' weird look, Derek looked up and asked, "Stilinski is Polish, isn't it?"

Stiles nearly choked on air. Whatever he had been expecting, that certainly wasn't it. "Uh, yeah," he managed after regaining his composure. "Why?"

Derek glanced down at his wrist again, and then up at Stiles. He seemed to gather his nerve, and then asked, "How many cousins do you have?"

"I'm not sure," Stiles responded carefully. "My Dad's an only child, but my mom had a ton of siblings. I've probably got, like, twenty to thirty cousins, but I've only met like five, at my mom's funeral. Why?"

Derek seemed disheartened by this answer. "So none of them have the last name Stilinski?"

"No, I don't think so," Stiles answered, giving Derek a weird look. "Why?"

"Nothing," Derek replied gruffly. "Never mind. It's not important."

The answer struck Stiles across the head quickly, because despite how often people underestimated him, and his GPA, he did have an IQ even higher than Lydia's. "It's about your soul mate." He meant it to be a question, but it came out as a statement. Derek just set his jaw and stared at the road.

Stiles felt his heart jump, but he was absolutely not going to act like a lovesick teenage girl around her crush. He was not. He was better than that. He could at least be subtle. Maybe.

"So, your soul mate's name is Polish?" he pushed, watching Derek carefully to see his reactions. Stiles knew better than to expect Derek to answer to many of his stupid questions, especially something this personal, but he was confident that Derek wouldn't try to bash his head into the steering wheel, at least. They were better friends than that now.

Derek's jaw moved a little, like he was gritting his teeth, and he seemed adamant on not looking over at Stiles. Stiles could see the end of Erica's minivan ahead of them, two cars between them, but knew that the radio was turned up and the distance should be enough to fend off any werewolf hearing. Well, besides Derek's.

"Is their last name Stilinski?" Stiles asked curiously, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. He didn't quite succeed, so he added, "Because I'm pretty sure my Dad told me a story about his father having a kid before he met Dad's mom." This, of course, was a total lie, but Stiles' heart was going crazy anyway, and Derek really didn't seem to notice. All the werewolves were used to Stiles' weird jumpy heart by now, which was really just ADHD, Adderall, and heart fluctuation because of his love-hate relationship with the stupid werewolf who currently resided in the same car as him.

Derek's jaw set a little more determinedly, but Stiles knew Derek well enough to know that when his lips twisted like that it meant he was trying to avoid answering the question. In this situation, that meant that yes, Derek's soul mate did have the same last name as Stiles. And since Stiles knew the chance for soul mate dysfunction was about one in one hundred and fifty people, and what was the chance that Derek's soul mate had the same last name as Stiles but it was still soul mate dysfunction. But, of course, that brought up the question of why Derek hadn't reacted to Stiles name, if it was the one on his wrist.

Oh. Ohhhh.

"You know Stiles isn't my real name," Stiles blurted suddenly, because his brain to mouth filter was malfunctioning after this revelation that he might not have soul mate dysfunction after all. Derek is taken by surprise, and jerks the wheel so hard they nearly go flying off the road into a tree. Stiles curses wildly while he flails his arms around for something to grab. He finally clutches the door handle with white knuckles as Derek regains control of the car and pulls over.

When they're safely on the side of the road, Stiles feels that it's safe to let go of the handle now. Slowly, he makes his fingers release, watching the way the muscles slowly recede in his wrist under the watch. He removes his hand from the car door and realizes that he's breathing harder than he should, and tries to calm himself, but suddenly he's really hyper away that his maybe actual soul mate is sitting right there and has been there for over a year and they've actually had a real freaking love-hate relationship over this year between saving each others lives and slamming each other against sharp objects and not rescuing each other as soon as they possibly could have but still rescuing each other.

Derek seems to realize exactly what Stiles' statement means too, and at this point they're both just staring at each other and waiting for the other to speak first. But Derek has seriously been to himself for over a year now and Stiles normally can't go five seconds without talking so it's about two minutes before Stiles cracks and says, "So..." in a voice way lower than it's supposed to be. 

He doesn't know whether to blush in mortification or laugh so he just awkwardly presses his lips together and resigns to asking Derek to forget this moment and keep driving so he can jump out of the moving vehicle before this situation gets more awkward. Or maybe he'll just get out of the car and run into the forest and hope Derek didn't follow him. Yeah, let's go with that. Stiles ducks his head away from Derek and starts reaching for the door handle again, but then Derek grabs his hand and holy fucking shit Stiles either needs to make out with him now or get away before he does something stupid...like make out with him.

Derek says something that is such a mangle of letters and the "ee" sound that it's nearly unrecognizable, but it sounds just enough like Przemyslaw for Stiles to choke and get his hopes up. He tugs at his watch, fingers too clumsy to undo the strap properly when he's so shocked, and somehow it comes off in record time and Derek is staring at his wrist. And then, suddenly, his eyes are attracted to Derek's bared forearm with his name, Przemyslaw H. Stilinski written on it in curly black lettering and he is actually literally choking on air, but not the panic attack way, the "I can't breath because I'm so happy I keep gasping" way.

Stiles somehow finds his body going momentarily out of his control in his shock and suddenly he's falling on Derek's chest because all his muscles momentarily stopped working. When he gets control he flails back up, using the dashboard and the seat and accidentally Derek's shoulder for leverage because they might be soul mates but that doesn't mean Derek wants him.

Derek grabs Stiles hands straight out of the air like a freaking ninja, and even with the werewolf superpowers it should be impossible because Stiles is flailing like a freaking maniac. And now Stiles and Derek are technically holding hands and Stiles is this close to hyperventilating to the point of asphyxiation.

"It's you?" Derek says, and he sounds incredulous. Stiles feels his heart drop like a freaking atomic bomb, complete with the explosion that wiped out a ton of people's lives. he tries to struggle out of Derek's grip on his wrist, but only manages to bang his wrist on the dash and make Derek frown and pull his arms a little closer so Stiles is forced to scoot forward in the seat.

"I-" Stiles begins, but then somebody is pulling up behind them and Stiles realizes it's Jackson's Porsche and Erica's minivan. They must have seen the Camero swerve and doubled back to make sure Derek wasn't ripping Stiles to shreds. He frowns at Derek and begins to struggle his wrists out of his grasp, but to no avail. Derek just holds his wrists tighter and glowers at him.

"Stiles-" he begins to say, but by then doors are opening in the cars behind them and Erica is tapping on the window and seeing Stiles try to pull his wrists out of Derek's death grip. One can only imagine what she thought was going on, but what she saw was Derek almost breaking Stiles' wrists to prevent the younger man from pulling away, so her reaction was reasonable. Stiles was her Batman, after all.

Erica shouted to the others in surprise and practically ripped the door off its hinges. "Derek!" she shouted in surprise, slight anger contorting his tone. Derek glanced down at his hands around Stiles' wrists, realizing what it must have looked at the exact same time Stiles did, and he quickly let go.

The others jogged over just as Stiles practically fell out of the car. Erica put a hand on his shoulder and investigated his face and arms for any injuries. His wrists hurt a little and would probably bruise, but overall he was fine. Stiles jerked his wrist away before Erica could see the name anyway. "I'm fine," Stiles murmured, still remembering Derek's incredulous tone and expression.

"Lie," Erica said, frowning, and Stiles supposed it was, because he felt like his heart was bruised.

"I'll be fine," Stiles said, trying to slow his heart. He didn't know if that was a lie or not. He pushed away from Erica and subconsciously put his opposite hand over his wrist, covering the name under his fingers.

Scott literally glowered at Derek. Stiles had told him about his suspected soul mate dysfunction, but not who it was, and since Stiles didn't have his watch on, he knew Scott was going to jump to that conclusion. That Derek had found out about the soul mate dysfunction and somehow made Stiles feel bad about himself. And then he was going to get angry, because he was a good friend like that.

"Look," Stiles interrupted before anybody else could say anything. "Maybe it'd be better if I rode with somebody else."

Derek looked like he might protest, but one look around at the rest of the people jogging up, and Lydia asking, "What's going on? Aiden and I were discussing the pros and cons of the Notebook's plot and making Jackson jealous!" and he shut his mouth. Everybody else agreed, but Derek actually ended up on his own while Stiles squeezed into the back of Jackson's Porsche with Aiden and listened Jackson, Lydia, and Aiden bitch at each other the entire ride.

When they finally got to the beach house, it turned out to have exactly six bedrooms, which was a lot more than Stiles had expected, but it meant that a lot of people were sleeping in the same room. Ethan and Aiden were going to sleep in the same room, because they were twins and that made sense. Then Erica and Boyd, Isaac and Scott and Allison, and Lydia and Jackson. That left the two smallest bedrooms, with a conjoined bathroom, to Derek and Stiles. Stiles wanted to bang his head against the wall.

He spent the rest of the day avoiding Derek, even once going so far as to hide in the closet when Derek briefly glanced into his room to shut his room's door to the conjoined bathroom. Stiles unpacked quickly and then kind of just sat on the bed, trying not to have any emotional reaction while he thought of things that were bound to bring up an emotional reaction. He felt the verges of a panic attack come on, but it didn't really overtake him. Stiles thought this was good, because he wasn't sure he had the energy to calm down if he started panicking.

It was simple. Derek didn't want him as his soul mate. He was incredulous that Stiles had turned out to be the one who was supposed to be with him forever. Stiles wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. He was going to suck it up and keep living his life, hopefully with less contact with Derek than before. He'd buy himself cats and be that old person on the block that always gave kids lemonade and cookies and showed them pictures of their cats in silly outfits.

Once Stiles had resolved himself to be the old cat man on the block if he survived these next few years, he felt strangely better. He still had his friends, who would stand them even if they figured out that his own soul mate didn't want him, and that was okay. What wasn't okay was that he had been avoiding everybody the entire afternoon while he came to this decision and now it was 2:38 AM and he was tired.

He must have rolled over and shifted position several times before he got comfortable, and it was past three before he fell asleep, but eventually he did fall into the dark serenity of unconsciousness.

***

Stiles woke up to the smell of burnt bacon. It wasn't the best smell to wake up to, and he groaned and wrinkled his nose, refusing to open his eyes.

"Get up, lazy!" he heard Lydia snap, and another wave of burnt bacon smell washed over him. He blinked his eyes open confusedly and saw Lydia standing over him with a frying pan in her hand. He gave her a confused face, and she smirked. "We were going to let you sleep, but it turns out we all suck at cooking. It's ten twenty. Get your ass out of bed and come make sure we don't burn Jackson's house down."

Stiles groaned loudly, grumbling as he rolled out of bed. He waved Lydia out of his room, communicating with a series of grunts and hisses, and she rolled her eyes before taking herself and the frying pan out of his room, shutting the door behind her.

Stiles rubbed the sleep crust from the corners of his eyes and stripped off his sticky clothes from yesterday. He stretched thoroughly throughout the whole process of both taking off his old clothes and putting on his swim trunks and a white muscle shirt. He also took his merry time getting down the stairs and to the kitchen, which absolutely stunk of burnt food, and if it irritated his nose, he could only imagine what the werewolves were smelling.

Isaac had a literal clothespin on his nose, it turned out, but it looked like he was uncomfortable because he kept adjusting it. The twins, Jackson, Boyd, and Erica had dust masks with Lydia's perfume sprayed in them, while Scott held his nose and Derek just sat their suffering. Stiles rolled his eyes, because seriously? He wasn't going to mess up his brooding face if he put one hand up to plug his nose.

It looked like he wasn't the only one who'd decided to put on his swim suit immediately, because Lydia, Erica, and Allison all had their swim suits on, along with Jackson, Isaac, Scott, Boyd, and the twins. So, pretty much Derek was the only one who hadn't put his swim suit on yet. Stiles wondered if he even had one, or if he just turned into a hulking wolf and doggy-paddled around.

"What did you guys do!" he explained, waving the smell away from his face as he came into the kitchen. He pointedly didn't glance at Derek, because he knew his heart would double-skip, and he was in a room full of werewolves. Unfortunately, they seemed to notice that he didn't look at the older man, because Scott's fists clenched and Erica glared over at him.

"None of them can cook," Jackson grouched from his position at the counter.

Lydia make a mock sympathy face. "Oh, poor baby. Stiles, I know you cook for your dad. At least you won't blow up the kitchen-"

"I didn't blow up the kitchen!" Erica protested loudly. "It's barely a scorch mark."

"But it's still a scorch mark," Jackson sniped. Erica frowned at him, lips twisting in displeasure.

"Whatever!" Stiles interrupted, feeling the corners of his lips tug up despite his attempts to stop them. "Give me twenty minutes."

Twenty five minutes later, the pack was feasting on properly cooked bacon and not burnt pancakes and everybody was making snippy comments about Ethan's attempt at waffles or Lydia's attempt at bacon, and Derek was upstairs changing. When Lydia finished her tiny portion she waited approximately two seconds before she decided everybody had eaten enough (even though Stiles had only gotten one pancake so far) and shoved them all out the door before Derek even came down.

Suddenly Stiles was carrying an armload of inflatable beach toys and rafts with Scott and Jackson while Isaac and Boyd struggled with something Stiles couldn't exactly see out of the corner of his eye besides knowing it was pretty heavy. He only tripped twice on the way down to the beach, and then Lydia and Allison grabbed half the stuff out of their arms and were blowing them up.

Stiles saw Isaac and Boyd drop a portable volleyball net in the sand, and of course Lydia would bring a portable volleyball net to the beach, because she was Lydia. No doubt they'd all be forced into setting it up and taking it down each day, so Stiles snuck away and swam out into the ocean, far enough to just barely be in earshot.

The waves were loud and crashing, and Stiles was immersed in swimming, and he quickly forgot the world around him and let his head he ducked under a few times. He didn't realize that being out of earshot and under the ocean could be potentially dangerous until kelp caught on his foot and something under the water and he was struggling to get to the surface.

Stiles kicked and thrashed and tried to tug the kelp off his ankle, but he only succeeded in getting it more tangled so it was even tighter around his foot. Was it his imagination, or was he going deeper. Maybe the waves were getting bigger. Stiles was swallowing more and more water with every breath, and he tried to yell, but they didn't seem to hear him.

Stiles' muscles were tiring, and still ached from training three days earlier, and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that. Each breath brought in less air and more water until he got a mouthful of salty ocean with only bubbles for the air part. The next time up he didn't even get that.

Stiles tried to open his eyes, but the salt in the water stung his eyes. His lungs were panicking as they ran out of the last bits of air, and they tried to draw in another breath, but he just inhaled water. They immediately expelled that, only to take in more water.

Stiles vision was blacking out, and he had seriously thought it was going to be a feral werewolf or a crazy witch that had finally done him in. He suddenly remembered that he'd read somewhere that drowning was the most painful way to die, and the growing pain in his lungs was proving that maybe that actually was true.

Stiles was seeing through a tunnel when he hallucinated strong arms wrapping around his torso. Or maybe he wasn't, because the kelp was suddenly torn from his ankle and then he was breaking the surface and doing an awful lot of coughing. A warm chest pressed into his back and muscled arms went under his own, holding him up as the person behind him tread water.

He finally got enough air into his lungs to think logically, and he squirmed in the arms that held him until he managed to turn around and was face to face with Derek. His eyes were level with the bottom of Derek's nose, so to avoid the awkward sight he could either look up into Derek's eyes, or down at his lips. He chose down, but then immediately felt the urge to lean forward, so he switched his eyes up so he was staring directly into those strange, multicolored eyes that were green, blue, and brown all at the same time. Oddly enough, he still felt the urge to lean forward and kiss Derek, so he settled for tipping forward and burying his face in Derek's shoulder.

"Thanks," he muttered, tone slightly bitter but still grateful.

"It's nothing," Derek said back, and Stiles noticed that they weren't even heading back to shore. Obviously, Derek wanted to talk, and considering that he'd saved Stiles' life not ten seconds ago, and Stiles still felt like a wet noodle from his efforts to not drown, Stiles figured he was stuck.

"Listen," Derek began, and Stiles felt the corners of his eyes start to sting. It had nothing to do with the ocean, but there would probably be some more salt water streaming down his face soon.

"Look," Stiles said, trying to extend his neck backwards so his head was as far from Derek as possible. "I get that you don't want me as your soul mate. That's fine. You don't have to explain it to me. Can we just not talk about-"

"NO!" Derek interrupted hastily. "I mean, I'm sorry. I was just surprised yesterday. I'd been looking for Perzimeeslaaw forever, and-"

This time, it was Derek who was interrupted, because Stiles was laughing. "Perzimeeslaaw? You never looked up how to pronounce it? I think there's a twenty second video on YouTube or something. It's Przemyslaw."

Derek said something under his breath, and Stiles frowned. "What?" he asked, squinting curiously.

"Twenty two seconds," Derek repeated, turning the color of a ripe watermelon. Stiles felt a delighted smile worm onto his face, and he laughed again, which seemed to make Derek feel a little better. "I knew it was Polish, and I thought that if he had your same last name, maybe he was your cousin...but Stiles isn't your real name."

"No," Stiles agreed, shaking his head. His chest was still pressed against Derek's, and he was way too close to Derek once again to not be physically affected by his attractiveness. He was suddenly very glad he was in the really cold ocean.

"So do you mind?" Derek asked, suddenly looking startlingly uncomfortable. 

Stiles blinked up in surprise at him. "Do I mind?! Do you mind? I'm not the one whose stuck with an annoying, hyperactive, and way too talkative teenager two months from legal age for a soul mate. And before you say something about being cursed in love or with the werewolf thing, I remind you that you are literally the closest thing to a Greek God that will ever walk this mortal earth, so you can take your self-suffering bullshit and-"

Stiles doesn't know if it's a good thing that sentence was stopped or not, because he's not exactly sure what was going to come out of his mouth next, only that it probably would have been inappropriate. However, the way he'd been shut up was not nice. Not nice at all.

Stiles spit all the ocean water out of his mouth, and like half of it got all over Derek's face. He tried not to laugh, he really did, but Derek actually had something akin to a surprised expression on his face for once, and he couldn't stop giggling. Derek's face quickly settled back into a neutral, if slightly doubtful, expression, and Stiles wanted to see something besides that look on Derek's face right now, because jeez, he couldn't be happy if his soul mate (with no soul mate dysfunction) was unhappy.

Before he could really think himself out of it, he leaned forward and kissed Derek. Derek stiffened in surprise, but didn't let go of Stiles in the water, which Stiles thought was probably good, because he wasn't exactly focused on treading water right now.

They both tasted like salt water, and when Stiles inhaled through his nose, Derek smelled like pine and sweat and everything you would imagine Derek smelled like. When Derek's arms tightened around Stiles and he suddenly started reciprocating in the kiss, it got about seventy-five percent better. Maybe because Derek actually knew how to kiss.

The lip-locking continued until a wave crashed over them against and both their heads were both dunked. When they came up to the surface, spiting salt water and blinking the brine out of their eyes, they were separated. Stiles was breathless, but not because of his short time under the water, and it looked like Derek was feeling the same tightness in his lungs.

"Okay, uhm, well..." Stiles trailed off, looking at Derek, but then shook himself out of it. Derek would have to try a lot harder to get him speechless. "Yeah, that was a lot better than I expected. Let's, I don't know, maybe swim back to the shore, dry off, and then do more of that? Yeah, I'd be okay with that plan."


	2. Soul Spot AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul Spot AU (or idea, whatever). I came up with this one, but it's not the most original, so i may have just remembered it from somewhere... The simplified down-low (if it's not obvious in the chapter) is that you touch the soul spot, you feel tingly or whatever, and that person is a soulmate of yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soul Spot AU, and stuff. Apparently I'm posting every day until I run out of these. Which will probably be tomorrow. Any Soul Mate AU you want you see (even again) just tell me and I'll try.

It was called the soul spot. It was in the middle of both of your palms, and it was like that for everybody. The stories stated that you would instantly be attracted to your soul mate(s), so the soul spot was considered to only be for specific people to touch. Your true parents, your best friends, and perhaps your romantic partner. Some people didn't consider anybody their true guardian(s), because their birth parents gave them up and their adopted guardians weren't the best. Some people had no best friends, and some people had no romantic partner. You knew the difference because each felt different, or so the stories said.

"Yes, but how does it feel different?" Scott asked, dropping from his perch in the tree above Stiles to stand right beside his best friend.

"Well, I doubt you consider Isaac to be your true guardian," Stiles quipped quietly, peering through the trees. "Are you sure we can talk while we're keeping watch?"

"Crocotta have horrible hearing," Scott informed him. "But doesn't the true guardian feel something too? So what if Isaac considers me his true guardian? Or am I his friend?"

"Pretty sure that Isaac's true guardian is Derek," Stiles said, trying to keep alert even though this was his third sleepless night in a row. "Did it feel like it had with me?"

"No," Scott said, shifting uncomfortably. "It felt less tingly, more..." he shook his head. "I don't know how to describe it. Less pins and needles, more like a pleasant massage feeling? But you know how soul feelings are. They're magnified by, like, a thousand times."

"Eloquent," Stiles noted dryly. "Yeah, but it apparently feels different for each person, except the two that linked. For each person, the same category is supposed to feel the same, and since there were no tingles, I'm assuming it's not a friend thing. That leaves true guardian or romantic partner. Which do you think it is?"

"True guardian," Scott said without hesitation, but Stiles sent him a cursory glance out of the corner of his eye, and saw the little fidget Scott did whenever he tried lying to anybody. Stiles had been friends with him long enough to recognize it, and he couldn't help the surprised laugh that bubbled up and out of his throat.

Scott shoved his shoulder, cheeks practically glowing in the forest gloom. "Shut up," she grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"No," Stiles reassured him. "It's cute. Did it feel like it had with Allison? Because you can have more than one romantic partner, you know."

"Yes it did feel like it had with Allison," Scott snapped, "But I was maybe hoping to avoid the awkwardness of explaining to my girlfriend that she had to share me with Isaac, who lives at my house."

Stiles chortled bemusedly. "You never know. Maybe Allison and Isaac have the same connection, and you guys can all be a cute little threesome."

Stiles expected Scott to blush and grumble and shove his shoulder, but only the blushing happened. Stiles' face lit up in delight. "You totally want a threesome! Well, get Allison to touch Isaac's palms! Right after we finish the fight with this Crocotta thing."

"Alright!" Scott exclaims, shushing Stiles. "I'll get Allison and Isaac to touch each other's soul spots. Happy?"

"Very," Stiles retaliated, and then frowned. "Is that my imagination, or did you just see movement?"

"I don-" Scott started, but was cut off by a shrill scream.

"Scott!" Allison's voice pleaded, and another pained scream came. "Scott! Help! Please!"

"Allison!" Scott yelled, eyes widening and reddening. "I'm coming, Allison!"

"No, Scott," Stiles hissed, flailing out to grab the werewolf's arm. His friend was already halfway across the clearing though, sprinting towards the direction his girlfriend's voice had yelled out. "Crocotta can mimic voice patterns," he said, practically to himself. "Goddammit," he swore. "I need to send him to obedience school or something."

"Maybe an electric collar," a smooth voice behind him quipped, and Stiles jumped, swinging around and bashing his baseball bat into the head of what was behind him.

For once, he wasn't completely useless in a fight, because his bat slammed directly into the Crocotta's head and sent the humanoid creature stumbling back. Red blood bubbled up from the gash the bat had made, and the Crocotta hissed and spit as it stumbled back and around to face Stiles again. It's eyes glowed neon green, which was just the slightest bit terrifying.

"Well," it mused in the most condescending tone Stiles had ever heard, even from the other werewolves when they'd first been bitten. "Looks like the werewolves' little pet found his stripes." It grabbed the end of the bat and yanked it out of Stiles' grip, tossing it out into the forest. "Fetch," it said playfully, smirking at him.

Stiles shifted his weight and slammed his fist directly into its face. It blinked at his, before its features twisted into an ugly expression and it lunged at Stiles. Fortunately for him, Stiles was getting better at dodging attacks, and when he dodged to the left, a tree had been close enough behind him for the Crocotta to slam it's face into the trunk.

It whirled around with a snarl imprinted on its face. "Okay," it growled. "I was going to play around with you a little before using you as bait for your pack, but now I think I'm just going to kill you." It's nails sharpened and its eyes flashed a brighter green, so they practically glowed through the dimness of the forest. It turned to lunge for Stiles, and Stiles scrabbled around in the dry leaves on the forest floor to dodge the attack.

His knuckle skin scratched against something rough, and Stiles felt for it. A tree branch. Stiles smirked at the Crocotta as his lunged for him, and then smacked it directly in the face with his surprisingly super-heavy tree branch. His wrist twisted uncomfortably because of the weight, so he had to drop the branch directly on the Crocotta's chest.

He whirled around and legged it into the forest, knowing that the trees could lose him easier than the clearing. He knew yelling for the wolves would be useless, because besides Scott, they all knew that the Crocotta could mimic voices. Scott had said the Crocotta didn't have good hearing, but seeing as he'd forgotten the voice thing, what else could he have been wrong about.

Stiles stumbled over a tree root that jutted up from the ground, and found himself with a face full of leaves. He didn't let that keep him down long, and while he pushed up, he grabbed a handful of the dry leaves, crushing them between his fingers.

He could hear somebody crashing through the forest behind him, but he knew all the wolves were super quiet, because they knew this forest like the back of their hands. It had to be the Crocotta, and if he didn't come up with a plan soon, it was probably going to gut him. This is so what he got for hanging out with werewolves.

He got a surprising distance before the creature actually caught up with him. It seized him around his waist, and Stiles squirmed in it's grip and then shoved his handful of leaves directly up it's nose and in it's mouth and eyes. He kicked and struggled, and it released him because of the surprise that came with leaves getting shoved in your face. 

Stiles scrabbled around for another tree branch, or something, but there was nothing. It grabbed the back of Stiles' neck and tossed him though the air, and that was a yes for super strength. Stiles' back slammed into the trunk of a tree, and the impact knocked the breath right out of his lungs. He wasn't sure if he had a broken rib or not, but he would assume yes right now, just so he didn't overestimate himself.

"You're a lot harder to catch than I thought," the Crocotta gloated, slowly walking up to him. Leaves crunched under its feet, and it grinned conceitedly down at him when it reached him. Stiles finally managed to get a little air into his lungs, but it wasn't enough to do much. The Crocotta grabbed him up again, and smirked happily before tossing him through the air. Stiles braced for the impact this time, but this time it wasn't with a tree.

Stiles' back hit the ground and his feet immediately flipped up over his head. He expected to roll completely over and land on his stomach, and then have to struggle to his feet to fight this thing until his werewolf friends realized that the Crocotta was actually fighting the defenseless human one-on-one, and they needed to get their furry behinds over here before one of them (probably Stiles) died.

Instead, his feet didn't hit solid ground, and the momentum dragged his body back enough that he was suddenly dangling from a ledge. Stiles had never been really great at pull ups, but lately he'd been getting better. However, beaten, bruised, and breathless was not the best way to try pull ups, especially when it was on a cliff that was slippery from midnight dew so that Stiles had to use all of his strength to shift his grip constantly so he didn't slide right off the cliff.

"I admit I was hoping for more blood," the Crocotta confessed, still fucking smirking. "But this," he looked down on Stiles' desperate position. "This is more dramatic."

"If you're going for Lion King, maybe," Stiles replied, because he couldn't stop being a clever little shit, even when he was literally dangling from a cliff.

"Well," the Crocotta responded, tilting its head. "From what I remember from that movie, Mufasa's death happened like," its claws slid out of its fingernails and sharpened to razor sharp points. "This," it said, and lowered it's claws to dig into Stiles' hands. Right before the claws could puncture Stiles' knuckles, the Crocotta was suddenly flung to the side, into a tree.

"Derek!" Stiles called, relief washing over him. "Right on time, dude! If you could just help-Oh, no, you're going to fight the Crocotta first? I remember that these battles usually last like fifteen minutes, and I doubt I can hold on for five, so if you could maybe stop me from falling...and, you're not paying attention. I'll just struggle to keep holding on, then. You take your time."

Stiles didn't really catch the battle, being too occupied in trying not to fall off of a freaking cliff, but he knew there was a lot of throwing each other into trees, and lots of scratches with their super dangerous nails. Derek growled a lot, and the Crocotta made this weird little snickering noise every five seconds that sent shivers up Stiles' spine, and not the good kind.

Derek seemed to finish the battle relatively quickly, like ten minutes, and Stiles liked to think that was because he'd done his fair amount of damage to the thing. However, he had said he could only hold on for five minutes, but adrenaline did amazing things when your life was at danger, so Stiles managed about ten minutes and one second before his hands gave out and he was falling off the cliff.

He only made it about one foot before Derek's hand came out of nowhere and grabbed onto his, which just proved his theory that Derek wouldn't let him do anything on his own, even fall to his death. Stiles' forearm still slipped from his grip, because it was wet from dew and Stiles seemed adamant on the whole "falling to his death" thing, but Derek's hand firmly grabbed his own, preventing gravity from taking Stiles' life.

What gravity did take was Stiles' breath, however indirectly, because the minute Derek's palm connected with his own, pleasure raced under every square inch of skin on his body, and from the look on Derek's face, it happened to him too. The surprise was enough for Derek to not pull Stiles up right away, so he just kind of dangled there from Derek's grip in shock while they stared at each other with weird expressions on their faces.

Finally, they both seemed to snap out of it at the same time and Stiles kicked frantically against the cliff while Derek hauled him back up onto the grass. "So," Stiles gasped, because his lungs were only half-working. "That was interesting." Interesting was definitely the word for it, because it didn't feel like it had with his mom or dad, and definitely didn't feel like it had with Scott. That really only left one option, and Stiles didn't really want to think about that.

"Stiles!" Scott yelled, barreling through the trees, shortly followed by the rest of the pack. "Are you okay?"

Stiles scrambled to his feet, suddenly re-purposed, and gave Scott his best angry-disappointed face. Scott withered under it. "Crocotta's can mimic voices, nitwit!" he snapped, but couldn't stay mad, because Scott pulled the adorable, innocent puppy look, and Stiles sighed. "Just don't do that again! Ever!"

"Do you think I can keep the head?" Erica asked from over by the Crocotta's body. "Mount it on a pike?"

"Disgusting," Lydia simpered, primping. "So I heard Isaac and Scott felt a soul bond?"

Both Scott and Isaac turned bright shades of pink and ducked their heads, and Stiles really didn't have the energy to deal with this. Unfortunately, Lydia would probably talk about his and Derek's...connection three days from now. Stiles ran a hand over his exhausted face.

"Later," Derek said stoically. "You all need to go home and get some sleep." He said it in a way that there was absolutely no room for argument, even though their was a long silence afterward. Everybody turned to make their way back through the forest to their various vehicles, but then Derek called, "Stiles. You and I are talking tomorrow," and there wasn't room for argument there either.

"What was that about?" Scott whispered to him as they trudged back to the Jeep and Stiles probed his stomach to make sure he didn't have a broken rib. He didn't.

"I don't know," Stiles lied, and by the look on Scott's face, he knew it was a lie. Thankfully, the look on Stiles' face told him to shut up about it, so he didn't pick at it the rest of the way to the car, and then the drive to Scott's house.

Stiles drove home half asleep and barely managed to stumble up the stairs to his room and fall into bed before he was out.

***

Stiles woke up because his window was opening. He'd become a much lighter sleeper over the past year because of all the ghosts and ghoulies trying to creep on him in his sleep. His immediate reaction was to grab for the baseball bat by his bed, but then he remembered that it was still lost int he forest because of the Crocotta the night before.

Thankfully, it was Derek, because Stiles didn't think he had the energy to fight off another incubus, especially after nearly falling off a cliff last night.

Stiles groaned and flipped over, pressing his face into the pillow as Derek landed softly on the floor. "We don't have to talk about it," he whispered into the pillow, not knowing whether it was intended for Derek to hear or not. 

He did, for better or for worse, and growled out, "Yes we do."

Stiles mumbled profanity into the pillow until Derek got bored and snippy and grabbed his forearm, flipping him so he was laying on his back, peering up at Derek.

"Maybe we're just really good friends," Stiles offered weakly. "Or maybe, you know, you've saved my life so much I consider you a...true...guardian..." he slowly tampered off at Derek's frown.

"Never mind," Stiles chirped, flipping back over. "I'm not mentally prepared to deal with this conversation."

Derek reached down and grabbed his hand, and when his thumb pressed against Stiles' soul spot, Stiles let out a little surprised gasp at the pleasure waved that crashed over him. "Oh, yeah," he said grumpily into his pillow. "So last night wasn't my wild imagination. I really am soul bonded to somebody who could move mountains with his eyebrows."

Derek mumbled something Stiles couldn't hear, because he was one of huge only people in his friend group without werewolf hearing. Stiles didn't know if he actually wanted to know what Derek had actually said. He flipped back over to face Derek again.

"So do we kiss now or what?" he asked, before he could stop himself. He didn't know if he regretted it or not. Right now he seemed to be in a state of perpetual undecidedness.

"Do you want to kiss now?" Derek asked, and Stiles blinked.

"I don't know," Stiles responded. "If you want to kiss now, I suppose we should kiss now, and see if it's the third type of bond."

"Okay," Derek agreed, and Stiles was startled by how uncomfortable he looked.

"Okay," Stiles said back, and he propped himself up on his elbows just as Derek leaned down. Their foreheads banged together, and Stiles rubbed his head, frowning, as Derek jerked back. Stiles felt a sneeze coming on, and dropped tot he bed to move faster, but he didn't move quiet fast enough, so he kind of sneezed all over Derek's neck area.

"Sorry!" he apologized frantically, looking around for something to wipe Derek's face with. Finally, he just grabbed the bedspread and handed it to the older werewolf, blushing so hard he felt like he was going to spontaneously combust. Derek wiped his neck and jaw off with bed spread while Stiles scrambled backwards a little.

"Sorry. Sorry. I know this was a bad idea, I'm just...yeah. This sucked, and I'm just going to get out of the way before you feel the urge to werewolf yourself up and try to scratch my face off, or use me as your own personal werewolf claw pincushion, so I'll just go now." Stiles clumsily stumbled to his feet, and began to trip frantically over to the door, spouting a stream of apologies. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sor-mphh!"

Derek suddenly dropped the bedspread and grabbed Stiles' arm, twirling him around and leaning his lips into Stiles', and admittedly, Stiles was totally freaking out. He let his eyes close, because that's what everybody did in the movies, and once the barrage of colors wasn't assaulting his eyes, and he could focus more on the feel of the kiss, he almost understood.

Stiles had little to no experience with kissing, but Derek seemed to know what he was doing, so Stiles just kind of let him lead in the activity. He also knew what to do to make Stiles react in certain ways, like biting Stiles' bottom lip to make his mouth open, and Stiles didn't know whether to take offense in that, because as far as he knew Derek had only ever kissed girls before.

Stiles couldn't really be angry, because Derek's tongue was in his mouth, and his tongue was somehow in Derek's mouth, and there was nipping and mouthing and tonguing and it wasn't messy like he'd expected, but it was way better than he'd thought it would be. Especially when he nipped at the end of Derek's tongue and the older werewolf growled a little into Stiles' mouth.

Finally, when they pulled away, not only Stiles, but Derek as well, was gasping for breath. Stiles managed to grin at Derek, even though his mouth kind of felt numb, and said something along the lines of, "So, yeah, that's... that's the third type of soul bond," and Derek may or may not have laughed a little and made Stiles laugh himself. It wasn't nearly as awkward as Stiles would have imagined, and they went back to kissing after, and that was good. Everything was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, you know, any Soul Mate AU you want to see (even again) just tell me and I'll try.


	3. The Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles really didn't actually want to Run. But, of course, Scott had to be the most convincing, conniving, adorable little puppy and talk him into this. Now he wasn't exactly sure which route to take, but the one through the forest seemed pretty good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, you run away from werewolves who are chasing you, and if one thinks you smell better than the average hairless ape, you get tackled, and boom bada bang, you're soulmates. Werewolves are known, thanks for asking. Also, it's come to my attention that my italics, and therefore my sarcasm, doesn't work with AO3's system. How unfortunate. Again, like always, any suggestions you have to any soulmate AU's you'd like to see, comment them and I'll be happy to attempt to please you.

"But I don't understand why I have to do the Run," Scott complained, brow furrowing. "Allison and I are already soul mates. We already know that we're soul mates. Why do we still have to Run?"

Stiles rolled his eyes at his friend. "Every werewolf within the area has to Run, Scott. And I know you think you and Allison are star-crossed lovers, or something, but the Run is precautionary. They want to make sure you don't Chase after somebody else."

Scott's brow furrowed. "But who else would I Chase after?"

Stiles shrugged. "Who knows. That's why they want to you to Run. Just in case. Look, I'm sure you'll chase after Allison. You've been chasing after that girl since the beginning of Sophomore year, so you have plenty of practice."

Scoot made a face at him, and then flopped forward onto his stomach and peered up at Stiles with big, brown, puppy dog eyes. "Are you Running?"

Stiles almost immediately got what he was trying to do, and schooled his features into a stoic mask of refusal. "No, Scott. No. Absolutely not."

Scott blinked innocently at Stiles and stuck out his bottom lip, making it quiver a little. "Please, Stiles. Plllleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaasssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeee?"

"No!" Stiles insisted, shaking his head at Scott adamantly. "I'm not Running. Forget it. No. No way. I refuse!"

"Please," Scott begged, eyes pleading. "I'm going to keep begging until you say yes."

"I only have to wait two days and then you have to go off to Run," Stiles said. "I can manage until then."

***

Stiles knew he should have worn a warmer coat. The morning air was chilly against his warm skin, and he could feel more and more goosebumps cropping up on his arms and neck with each passing second.

He glanced around the area, and at the half-frosted dew drops on the blades of grass all around the clearing. It had rained the night before, so the forest's trees' leaves were heavy with moisture and would undoubtedly soak anyone who disturbed their careful balance.

Stiles' gaze landed on Allison, looking warm and cozy in a fleece-lined jacket with her hair down around her shoulders. Her eyes locked with his and she smiled at him before starting to walk over, hands in her pockets.

"Hey," she greeted, tucking a stray strand of black, curly hair behind her ear. "Nervous?"

Stiles pulled his slightly ratty, red hoodie closer around himself and shook his head. "What's there to be nervous about?" he questioned. "It's not like I'm actually aiming to be Chased."

Allison shrugged at him, tucking a free strand of curly black hair behind a delicately pointed ear. "Who knows," she said, giving him a look that couldn't be described any other way than curiously soulful. "Every Were in the age group around Beacon County and surrounding counties is required to Run. There's at least a chance that you'll get Chased."

Stiles shivered and snuggled even deeper into his sweatshirt, pulling his hands into his sleeves. "There are at least twice as many people Running as there are Weres Chasing. That's something like a..." he paused, brain whirring with activity as he did the calculations. "...34.27% chance I'll get Chased, if I've got the number of people Running correct, and the average of Weres that don't choose stays the same as years past. And that's strictly logistical." 

"But what will you do if you are Chased?" she inquired, blinking innocuously at him.

He motioned around them with a casual hand, and then at Allison herself. "Look at all these ridiculously attractive people, including you. The richer ones," he sent a not-so-subtle glance in the direction of a certain Lydia Martin, "Can probably afford something like werewolf pheromones."

She bumped his shoulder with her own, grinning reassuringly at him. "Uhm, I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as 'werewolf pheromones'. Plus," she elbowed him playfully, "When was the last time you looked in a mirror. You're not too bad looking yourself, handsome."

Stiles scoffed, and looked in the direction of the awaiting forest, not wanting to dignify that ludicrous remark and pitiful attempt at an ego boost with a reply. Allison's lips twisted, and she leaned a little closer and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, even though he didn't need to be comforted. "Well, it's true."

"Whatever," Stiles said, rolling his eyes and pulling his jacket closer again.

Allison was staring at him with a weird look, so Stiles raised an expectant eyebrow at her, motioning for her to speak. Allison bit her lip and then asked, "So you don't want to be Chased at all?"

"Are you kidding?" Stiles asked, incredulous. "I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for your idiot boyfriend bugging me nonstop for three hours before I finally gave in," Stiles replied, a little bitterly. "He's ridiculous. Why is it so hard to say no to him?"

Allison shrugged, a smile lighting up her features. "He's just so adorable and innocent. And you know if you say no he'll get that sad, wounded look on his face, and you'll die just a little inside."

Stiles opened his mouth to respond to that particular comment, but the shrill sound of a whistle cut him off before the first syllable was even out. "ALRIGHT!" Coach Finstock bellowed through a megaphone, and Stiles was suddenly reminded why sometimes he hated this teacher. "LISTEN UP! I'M SURE WE ALL STUDIED UP THE RULES OF THE RUN LAST NIGHT BEFORE BED, BECAUSE WE'RE SO EAGER TO OFFICIATE OUR SOUL MATE FANTASIES WITH OUR WEREWOLF LOVERS, BUT SINCE NONE OF YOU NUMSKULLS CAN GET INFORMATION THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULLS THE FIRST TIME IT'S PRESENTED TO YOU, TALIA HALE IS HERE TO TELL YOU HOW NOT TO FUCK UP!"

Stiles rolled his eyes as Finstock stepped back to make space for a tall, graceful woman with tan skin and loose brown hair. He handed her the megaphone, albeit reluctantly, but instead of shouting, her voice was clear and vibrant. She greeted them all in a lilting, beautiful tone, and told of how two of her children were actually competing in the Run; Derek and Cora. She lectured them about the specifics of how smelling out the soul mate bond worked, and Stiles paid attention even though he didn't care about the run, because learning it for Scott's sake just in case couldn't be bad. 

She also told them that trying to take the other Runners out was forbidden and would not go over well. Especially since it wouldn't help any, because if you didn't smell like mate, you didn't fucking smell like mate. Nothing was going to change that, and the scent of blood would probably just make the scent stronger anyway. Also, if there was any mauling by the werewolves, you just needed to yell and scream a lot, because safety officials would hear and hopefully get to you before you bled out on the forest floor. Okay, so maybe not those exact words, but the point was the same.

The Run length was five miles. You wanted to actually run, because it helped distribute your scent better. Just in case anybody suddenly got nervous and wanted out, all you needed to do was cross the finish line before a Were caught you and it was over.

Then everybody was lining up, and the sturdy magical barrier between the Were's and the humans was being prepared to be lifted. The humans would get a sixty second head start which would start in three...two...one...

Unlike most people, who were half-jogging so it would be fast enough for their scent to be dispersed but slow enough for their potential furry soul mate to catch them easily, Stiles set off at a full sprint, jumping over roots and fallen tree branches like a fucking gazelle. He tried to touch as little trees as possible, knowing it would leave his scent on the bark and maybe lead a Were to him, and he knew his chances were low, but he didn't want to take any chances.

Stiles must have sprinted full tilt at least three quarters of a mile before tripping over a tree root and spilling onto the freaking cold ground. His sweatshirt tore a little on the edge, and he cursed, ripping the hem from the branch it had torn on while being careful to not leave any fabric behind on the branch. He scrambled to his feet, brushed the frost off of his clothes, and started running again. This time, it was a bit slower than a full sprint, because he was going to get tired again and he didn't want another repeat of that epic fail. Also, it was a little easier not to touch any trees at a slightly slower pace.

A howl ripped through the trees just as Stiles was sure he'd run around six quarters of a mile, or one and a half miles. It was happy, somehow, and Stiles knew that the first of the Weres had found their soul mate. He estimated that the rest of the Runners had crossed about half the distance he had, maybe less, with their meandering pace, and this was enforced because the average first find was between half a mile and a full mile of territory crossed by the average Runner.

So maybe he had looked some stuff up. It wasn't his fault for being prepared just in case if he and Lydia both weren't chosen, he'd make sure she had a shoulder to cry on and some comforting statistics. She loved math, and Stiles could tell with one look at the way held a pencil when faced with a difficult mathematical equation. Stiles loved math too, and if soul mate bonds didn't work out, common interests were what many people had to fall back on.

Stiles ran into a tree branch, and landed painfully on his ass. He was almost at two miles now, and kind of panting for breath, but that was okay. He could collapse with video games and pizza and Doritos once he got home. Stiles got up, dusted the frost and moss off of his clothes so they didn't fall off and leave a more distinct trail, and then began running again.

At two and a half miles, Stiles had counted twenty two joyful howls so far, which meant approximately sixty three people left to get successfully Chased down. Stiles jumped over a tree root just as three more howls ripped through the air, all in immediate succession. Stiles must have been deluded, but he thought one of them sounded like Scott's. He hoped if it was Scott, that it was Allison who had been caught. Though he would never admit it out loud, they did make a cute couple.

Sixty people left, and on average, most people would be anywhere from one mile to two miles in distance. Stiles wasn't exactly sure, but he thought he was at two and a third. Coach Finstock better be fucking proud.

By the time Stiles had reached what he estimated to be three and a quarter miles, there were approximately thirty two people, give or take, to be successfully Chased down. Average Runners would be anywhere from one and a half miles to two and three quarters miles. And yes, he was calculating in the "lag so maybe your soul mate would catch you easier" factor. Soon he'd have to add another variable called the "I'm tired and I hate running" factor into the mix. Stiles was kind of feeling that variable right now, but not only did he not really want a werewolf soul mate bond, but also, finishing first by a mile in a race? That was totally a goal of his.

Stiles picked up the pace a little bit, thinking of rubbing this in Finstock's face when he shouted at Stiles in gym class for not being fast enough. Most of the lacrosse guys were either Running or Chasing, and if Stiles was the first one over, well, let's just say he'd enjoy the gloating rights for a long time.

At roughly three and three quarters miles, Stiles had a serious stitch in his side, but had calculated the statistics to be around twenty four people left to be successfully Chased down, maybe give or take a few for some miscounted howls or wild statistics. The average Runner should be anywhere from two to three miles, now counting the "lazy lag" as Stiles had nicknamed it.

At about four miles, Stiles heard a loud crack, like a tree branch breaking, maybe twenty yards behind him. Stiles swore, hoping it was just a random animal, and picked up the pace to a near sprint again. Only two other howls had come through since the last time he'd calculated, and on estimate, people should be a little less than a mile behind him.

Stiles couldn't help but reprimand himself for being super paranoid, because honestly, it probably wasn't even a tree branch. Probably just a runner's fatigue mixed in with some extra-crunchy moss under his foot, and a dash of paranoia. Still, Stiles couldn't help but keep his heightened pace up, heart pounding wildly.

At four and a half miles Stiles ducked under an extra low tree branch and secured it in both hands, muscles coiled up. He knew he wasn't being paranoid anymore, and this theory was confirmed when a really hairy, muscular werewolf broke through the trees and barreled straight towards him. Stiles shifted his weight onto his back foot, and when the werewolf got close enough, lunged forward and smacked him straight in the face with the low branch. A crack rang through the peaceful forest air, and Stiles didn't know if it was the werewolf's face or the branch that had broken.

Stiles turned around and sprinted, because statistics didn't fucking matter anymore and there was an actual werewolf chasing him. He had about half a mile to cross, and enough adrenaline to build a dam in a day. Stiles was suddenly struck by how much he hadn't wanted to do this; how much he didn't want a werewolf soul mate.

Would a soul mate be nice? Maybe. Stiles didn't know anything about actual soul mate living, but he knew karma would probably give him either a prick or an asshole for a soul mate. Also, Stiles wasn't really sure how to feel about his supposed soul mate being a guy. Stiles was clearly not gay, as his never-dying love for Lydia Martin proved. He might be bisexual. He'd never checked. And how did you even check those things, anyway?

Stiles was kind of tempted to turn around and go see if he'd actually hurt the dude, and maybe, you know, accept a soul mate bond thing. Except he had just physically exerted himself almost to the point of throwing up several times to avoid this sort of thing, and he didn't want his soul mate to turn out to be Jackson Whittemore in disguise or something. That thought alone was enough to keep Stiles going, never mind all of that other stuff.

Stiles broke through the tree line, and the finish line was only a dozen yards away. The crowd at the end gasped, clearly not expecting somebody to show up so soon. Stiles pictured Finstock's face when he crossed a mile ahead of everybody else, and that thought made him go even faster for a strong finish.

About four yards from the finish line, something slammed into him from the side and he was suddenly sent into a head over heels sprawl with another person. Stiles knew it was undoubtedly the werewolf he'd slammed in the face from earlier, and only hoped he was more in favor of trying to soul bond with Stiles than rip out his throat because he'd hit him in the face with a tree branch.

The werewolf ended on top, pinning Stiles to the ground with ease, and Stiles figured this was what he got. Still, when he looked up into the mysterious werewolf's face, he couldn't help but blurt, "Wow, what the hell did I do to your nose?"

The werewolf growled, a sound that simultaneously sent both good and bad shivers across Stiles' skin. "You broke it," he said in a gravelly and slightly pissed tone. "You broke my nose with a tree branch."

"Sorry," Stiles muttered, trying to shift under the werewolf. "Sorry about that. I didn't know that would happen." He glanced around awkwardly, looking at everything but the dude currently pinning him to the ground. "So, uhm, could you let me up, please?"

"Why? So you can cross the finish line and deny me the soul mate bond I've been forced into trying for since I was eighteen?" the werewolf asked, and Stiles risked a glance at him. It was not worth the risk, because he was no longer a furry-faced, big-nosed, eyebrowless werewolf, but an incredibly attractive, human-looking male with styled black hair and undeniably sexy stubble. The werewolf cocked an eyebrow down at Stiles when Stiles felt his cheeks go pink.

"Well, that's a new record," the slightly nasal voice of Coach Finstock declared, breaking the two out of their small universe and drawing their attention to the staring crowd. "The furthest a contestant's ever gotten while still getting caught before was four miles and five hundred twenty six yards. Bilinski is," he consulted the ground for a brief moment, "Three inches from the finish line. Nobody's breaking that record."

"DEREK!" a voice screamed, and a girl with tan skin and pretty brown hair tucked up in a pony tail ran over and stopped just short of the finish line, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You found your soul mate," she stated obviously, smiling ear to ear. Then she schooled her expression into a mock stern one and said, "You didn't forget Hale tradition, did you?"

Stiles opened his mouth to say something either rude or surprised at his discovery of apparently this man on top of him more than likely being Derek Hale, but before he could the werewolf-dude rolled off of him, groaning. "Fine," he grumbled, frowning at the woman. Stiles was just preparing an outburst of epic proportions, propping himself up on his elbows, when Derek leaned down and scooped him up bridal style, getting a loud squawk of surprise from Stiles, before taking one step forward and then setting Stiles lightly down on his feet.

"Personal space!" Stiles shouted, frowning at the werewolf who'd chased him and the mysterious woman. The woman smiled at him, seemingly on the verge of giggling, while the werewolf dude had a totally neutral expression on.

The woman turned and frowned at the werewolf dude. "What happened to your nose?"

The werewolf dude grunted and motioned with his chin at Stiles, who felt heat rising to his cheeks as, at the woman's insistence, the werewolf dude elaborated on how Stiles had slammed a tree branch into his face and broken his nose. The woman broke out laughing, clapping Derek on the back so hard he had to take a step forward to stay upright. The woman then turned to Stiles.

"Hi," she said in a friendly manner, sticking her hand out to shake. "I'm Laura Hale." She nudged the werewolf dude with her shoulder, still smiling. "This idiot over here is my brother, Derek. Our mother is the primary Alpha for the Hale pack, which resides over the area of Beacon Hills and the near surrounding forests. Who are you and where are you from?"

Stiles stared at both of them, feeling his eyes widen slightly. He'd maybe made the connection, but that was just theoretical. Cora Hale was in his grade. He remembered seeing the Hale family shop for groceries and buy the same cereal he got. And apparently, all this time his soul mate had been Derek Hale, the annoying older brother Cora always complained about.

"Uhh," Stiles said, biting his lip before putting his hand in Laura's and shaking it with what he hoped was a firm grip. "I'm Stiles. Uh, Stiles Stilinski. The Sheriff's son."

Laura blinked, looking momentarily surprised, and was it Stiles imagination, or did a shocked look flicker briefly across Derek's neutral mask?

Laura burst into smiles again. "Great! That makes everything so much easier. And hey, you graduate with Cora this Spring, right? That's fantastic! This'll be great! And so much easier than my own mate's political exchange with the Umber Pack. Is your father around anywhere?"

Stiles glanced around, and saw his dad sitting at the "important human personnel" table, a doughnut half way to his mouth. He frowned in his dad's direction, shaking his head sternly at the Sheriff, and Laura followed his gaze.

"Great!" she enthused. "I'll go talk to him and we can work out the possible arrangements right away. Why don't you two," she gestured between Stiles and Derek, "Get to know each other a little more."

Laura jogged off, leaving Derek and Stiles to stare at each other and a layer of impenetrable awkwardness hanging in the air between them.

"So, uhm," Stiles finally managed to say without stuttering. "Why did you, uhm," he gestured wildly at the finish line. "Pick me up?"

"Hale tradition," Derek muttered grouchily, and Stiles wanted to flinch as the tension in the air got a little thicker. "Everybody in out family has a practice of picking up their soul mate wherever they caught them and carrying them from that point on until over the finish line." 

Stiles was loathe to admit it, but this perked his interest. "What was the longest distance anybody in your family has had to carry somebody?"

"So far the hardest one has been my uncle," Derek replied coolly. "He had to carry his soul mate over four miles, because he caught her almost immediately." Derek's eyebrow twitched up in something Stiles might have guessed was amusement. "The easiest before was a mile and a half, but I think three inches beats that."

Stiles felt himself blushing violently, and he ducked his head in embarrassment. "Uhh, yeah. Sorry about your nose, by the way."

Derek shrugged, like he didn't really care either way. "It's already healed," he told Stiles. "The only issue is my relatives' endless teasing when they find out my soul mate broke my nose with a tree branch."

Stiles winced, but gave Derek a fake positive smile. "On the upside, you broke a lot of records with me."

Stiles was saved from further awkwardness by a tremendous wave of cheering from the crowd, looking back at the forest's edge. Jackson, the asshole he was, emerged from the tree border hand in hand with Lydia. He ran for the finish, pulling her behind him, and when they crossed the crowd roared in appreciation.

"First place!" Jackson bragged loudly, and Stiles tried hard not to laugh. He really did. But it didn't exactly work out like that.

"What are you laughing at, Stilinski," he sneered, and then did a double take, which made Stiles practically double over in laughter.

"There's no way you," he stabbed a finger in Stiles' direction. "Beat me."

Stiles grinned at Jackson, not even trying to keep from smirking conceitedly. "Oh, you wouldn't believe all the strange records I've broken today, Whittemore." Stiles turned to Lydia, who was watching the exchange with vague interest. "Hey, Lydia."

Lydia gave him a respectful nod before she practically dug her nails into the flesh of Jackson's arm and dragged him away to watch the rest of the Runners emerge while sitting calmly in the stands.

Another person emerged from the tree line before Lydia and Jackson even got to the stands, and Stiles decided maybe taking at least a couple steps from the edge of the finish line would be good. Without asking or informing Derek, he turned and walked by himself around fifteen feet from the edge, and then turned back to face the direction of the forest again. Derek had followed after a bit of reluctance, and Stiles couldn't really claim that he minded.

Stiles watched as Runners and Chasers emerged from the tree line, some together, some single. Stiles recognized Erica Reyes, and her partner, Vernon Boyd, when they emerged from the trees. Boyd was practically carrying Erica, because she was shaking like a dry autumn leaf in the wind. Stiles knew she had epileptic, and by the looks of it, she'd had a seizure right in the middle of the forest. Stiles felt a surge of concern flow through him, but he struggled it down when he saw Erica sit down with a little assistance from Boyd. She must have noticed his expression, though, because she gave him a reassuring smile.

The next people Stiles cared enough to watch for were Scott and Allison, who were, predictably, together. They sported identical grins that could have made the sun smile. Stiles was glad, because though he was loathe to admit it, they actually did make a pretty cute couple.

Fortunately for Stiles, Scott and Allison were too busy being excited for themselves that they barely even noticed his thumbs up, never mind the dark, brooding dude standing at a respectful distance and staring at Stiles. Stiles was starting to come to terms with the fact that he actually did have to deal with a soul mate bond with a werewolf, but his mind couldn't help but wheedle at the possibility that maybe he could wriggle out of it? He knew he couldn't, and even if he could he shouldn't, but still...

The only time Derek actually left his five foot distance from where Stiles was standing was when Cora stumbled out of the trees, carrying none other than Isaac Lahey. She literally tripped over the finish line, but Derek and Laura were already there. Laura caught Isaac, while Derek caught Cora, and they laughed about something and conversed for a while.

Talia Hale hadn't been there when Derek had tackled Stiles to the ground three inches from the finish line, but she was here for Cora. She seemed to be under the impression that Derek had finished early without a mate, like the years before. Or at least Stiles thought so, seeing as he hadn't gotten a single inquisitive look from her yet. Of course, he could be wrong. But from the way she hovered over Isaac with fluttery hands and a happy expression seemed to enforce Stiles' theory.

Stiles felt almost guilty, watching Talia wipe the dried blood from Derek's nose with a damp cloth. But hey, werewolf healing, so it wasn't as bad as it would have been if Derek had been human. Still, though...he felt bad. There wasn't much he could do about it now, though, especially since it was already nice and healed.

Derek headed over to Boyd, completely avoiding even glancing at Stiles, and Stiles had to admit he was a little curious. Boyd and Derek talked, and after a while Erica caught him staring and winked at him, before giving him a pitying expression. So obviously she thought Stiles couldn't get that either. Well, they were certainly going to be surprised.

Derek came back over and stood at a distance of about six feet from Stiles. Close enough to be close, but not close enough to look like he was trying to creep in on Stiles' personal space. Stiles appreciated the effort.

About five minutes after the last straggler struggled over the finish line, Finstock claimed the podium and megaphone for his own and started spouting off some bullshit about what would happen afterwards and that it was advised that the first thirty six hours after the Run should be spent in close proximity with your soul mate. 

Then came the time for Finstock to formally announce, for everybody to hear, what the soul matches were. He told the crowd as much, but then just stared down at the sheet the names had been recorded on with a puzzled look after saying, "First match..."

After a while, he clicked on the megaphone and started struggling through the name. "Pr-Pre-Preh-Preah..."

"IT'S STILES!" Stiles screamed, after getting the point. As much fun as it would be to watch Coach struggle through his name, he figured he'd done his fair share of evil today.

"Stiles," Coach emphasized, giving Stiles a look even with all that distance in between them, "Stilinski, and Derek Hale."

The reaction was nearly instantaneous. Cora let out a mixture between a bark and a squeak while Isaac nearly hit himself in the face with his own hand. Scott yelped, and Allison gasped, setting a hand over her mouth. Erica burst out laughing so hard she nearly fell over, and Jackson did fall over. Stiles pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at his friend's reactions, and struggled to keep a straight face.

Talia looked like she had just been struck by a bolt of rainbow lightning, and therefore was unharmed but happily surprised to the hundredfold. Several people up in the bleachers started applauding loudly, and Stile guessed that they were the other Hale family members. He briefly met his dad's gaze, and immediately felt himself blushing when his dad's eyebrow twitched up playfully as he glanced at Derek.

Stiles stood through the rest of the announcements with a bare minimum of fidgeting, but as soon as they were over and Talia Hale had said her official piece, he bolted over to his Dad, immediately getting enveloped in a hug. "So," his Dad said, pulling back to arm length distance and glancing Stiles over. "Derek Hale, huh?"

Stiles blushed. "It's not like I meant to," he mumbled.

"But you did mean to break his nose with a tree branch?" his Dad pushed, and Stiles ducked his head and turned a brighter color red than most tomatoes.

"I, uh..." he trailed off, suddenly finding the colors of his sneakers really interesting.

His Dad shoved his shoulder so he spun, and then pushed him a few stumbling steps towards where Derek was standing uncomfortably while being swarmed by his family. "You heard the coach," his dad told him kindly. "First thirty-six hours."

For the record, this was totally all Scott's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, like always, any suggestions you have to any soulmate AU's you'd like to see, comment them and I'll be happy to attempt to please you.


	4. Timer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate Timer AU. Stiles was literally counting down the seconds from the moment he noticed his timer was unnaturally close when the girl in the coffee shop had pointed it out. Maybe spilling tea all over his soul mate wasn't the best approach, but it worked out in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soul Mate Timer AU. Where a timer (on your wrist, because I like everything on the hands, apparently) counts down until the time you meet your soul mate. Apparently, in this !Verse, the time can change because of certain big events (whispers *like Derek going to New York*). This was for a commenter, the (very sweet, by the way) AbsentMinds. MayMeiKuru and PercyKane deserve all the attention too. I'd like to remind you that if I'm taking soulmate AU requests, which was kind of what this was for, so don't be afraid to ask!

Stiles couldn't stop staring at his wrist. Or, more accurately, the timer on his wrist. The timer on his wrist that was currently counting down by seconds, instead of hours or days. Seventeen minutes and thirty four seconds, it read. 17: 33...17:32...17:31... If Stiles was doing the math right that meant he was only 1051 seconds away from meeting his soul mate.

Stiles wished he had actually looked at his wrist this morning. Timers were known to change or jump large spans of time because of an unexpected move. He'd thought it'd be around three years before he ran across his soul mate, and since he wasn't really up for forcing the prospect of three more years of utter loneliness onto his sleepy morning mind, he hadn't checked it.

In fact, if it hadn't been for Lydia and the coffee shop girl, Stiles probably wouldn't have noticed it at all. And, knowing his luck, he'd have met several new people before checking it at night and seeing that it was at zero, and then having to hunt down all those people again to see which was was supposedly his for "eternity". Instead, when Lydia sent him to go get her coffee, and the girl behind him told him good luck, pointing to his wrist, he nearly had a heart attack.

So, you know, today was the day he was actually going to get Lydia's coffee order perfect, no matter that it's like three texts long and the people behind him started making "whipped" jokes. He also reverse pickpockets a ten dollar bill into the girl's pocket without her noticing, with an anonymous thank you note, because Stiles is feeling extra grateful to her and her fantastic observational skills.

The mall is super crowded. It takes Stiles 437 seconds of his 1051 to even get from the front of the clothing store Lydia works at to the register. He shoves her coffee at her, and only hovers around for her to take a sip because if he tries to dash off he knows she'll grab him before he can get anywhere. Lydia looks at him fidgeting, and her, being the evil little genius she his, lifts the cup to her lips purposefully slowly, and sips with a careful speed. Stiles wants to strangle her.

She looks surprised when she pulls her lips from the cup, giving him a smile. "You finally got the order exactly right. This is absolutely perfect! What do you want? If it's discounts, no."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "It's a thank you. Because if it hadn't been for the nice girl in line behind me, I wouldn't have even noticed," he lifts his wrist so she can see the numbers counting down clearly. "This."

Lydia blinks in surprise, and then her face splits into a smile. "Nine minutes and ten seconds, and counting quickly. Well, I wouldn't want you to meet your soul mate in a girl's clothing store. They might draw the wrong conclusion. Go! Run! Hurry! Out!"

Stiles, happy to take her advice and get out of the store, turns and squeezes between endless amounts of people to get to the exit. He ends up wasting another 312 seconds, which leaves him with approximately 234 seconds, and around 3.9 minutes, and wow, he really needs to stop doing the math extra credit worksheets, because he so does not need the extra credit.

Stiles doesn't know where to go. What would happen if he left? Would the time jump back up to years? Should he go to the food court? Should he just stand near the railing awkwardly? Should he start walking around, looking for a new face? In the end, he just ends up riding the escalator for two minutes before he starts getting really weird stares.

Forty eight seconds. Stiles heads for the exit of the mall at a faster-than-normal pace, because he's so not ready for this. Is he running towards or away from his soul mate? His wrist keeps counting down. He dodges around what feels like several thousand people and twenty dollies, and finally spots a bathroom he can duck into.

BAM! Stiles slams face first into a wall of muscle and broad shoulders. His nose rams into somebody's jaw, and they both go down. Stiles feels hot liquid slosh all across his shirt and just some of his pants and he ends up in a tangle of limbs on the floor with another person. A stranger. When his wrist said forty eight seconds left forty eight seconds ago. And the stranger's a guy. Here we go.

"Sorry!" Stiles yelped, placing his hands on either side of the man and trying to shove himself up. His hands slipped because of a warm liquid spilled all around them, and Stiles ended up falling back onto the man's chest. He felt his cheeks reddening with every passing second, but somehow he managed to squirm around enough to get off the dude and fall into a puddle of warm liquid, trying to sit up.

The man sat up the same time he did, and they whacked their foreheads together. Stiles yelped and rubbed his with the palm of his hand, while the man scowled. "Sorry," Stiles said again, scrambling to his feet without slipping this time. He offered his hand down to the man, warm liquid dripping off his fingers and splashing in the puddle on the floor. From the smell of it, it was herbal tea. Stiles was pretty sure at least, looking at the two squished cups lying a few feet away.

He winced at the mess. "Sorry," he repeated. "Sorry, sorry, sorry-"

"It's fine," the man interrupted, ignoring Stiles' hand as he practically leapt to his feet. He looked Stiles up and down, taking in the light gray shirt dripping and stained with the tea the man had previously been holding.

Stiles felt himself wince when the man glanced down at himself, and the tea stain in his own shirt. "Sorry," he murmured again.

"It's fine," the man practically growled, and Stiles wanted to withdraw into himself and roll away. The man lifted his wrist slightly, just enough to glance at the timer that matched Stiles' own. Stiles realized that of course his would have reached zero too. But was he happy with what he saw?

"What's your name?" the mysterious man destined to be Stiles' soul mate growled, voice rough and deep enough to be hazardous to Stiles' health.

"Stiles," Stiles murmured, staring down at his shoes, which were damp with tea as well. The guy took another step forward, which made Stiles' head snap up to look at him, and an unfamiliar expression crossed his face.

"I'm Derek," the guy said, and tilted his head to the side. "You're my soul mate?"

And there it was. Stiles' eyes returned to his tennis shoes. "Uhh, yeah...I guess?"

Stiles heard a weird sound from the man, his soul mate, Derek, and looked up. One corner of his lips was tugging up, and he appeared to be almost silently laughing in amusement. 'What?" Stiles asked warily. Nervously.

The man motioned down at both of them, or, well, their tea-soaked shirts. "We should get changed."

"Yeah," Stiles muttered in agreement, nodding. "I'll buy you new tea?"

"It's fine," Derek said, and this time Stiles realized that he wasn't so much growling the words as saying them in a frustrated manner, like he was tired of whatever was making him say them. Like Stiles. Or maybe Stiles' endless apologies. "Do you want to get some coffee with me?"

Stiles didn't care that he'd just gotten coffee. If his soul mate wanted coffee, he would drink a thousand coffees. But maybe decaf this time, because too much caffeine and his adderall didn't conflict well. Meaning he would talk this sinfully gorgeous man who was some how his soul mate to the literal point of dying because of annoyance.

"Sure," Stiles answered, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Derek motioned ahead of him, and maybe they should have said something about the spilled tea, but Stiles had kind of already forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to remind you that if I'm taking soulmate AU requests, which was kind of what this was for, so don't be afraid to ask!


	5. Dreaming of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles bumps into Derek first at the library, because he's clumsy like that. He thinks nothing of it, even after he starts having soul dreams, which only happen after you've had first physical contact with the one whose supposed to be with you forever. He might have never seen Derek's face until the inevitable moment when it was revealed in his dream, but of course Scott was soul bonded to two people, and one of them just happened to be part of the Hale pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this has been requested by two different people, which means, duh, I have to do it. The two people who asked for it are TheBadassIsIn and PercyKane, both of which are totally awesome. Huge thanks to everybody who has commented on this. Also, hey, I know I'm perfect and all (totally not, that was sarcasm) but if you see anything in this chapter where you'd like another scene, tell me. It feels like I kind of hurried this too fast along, but I'm not exactly sure where to put another scene in. Also, I finally stopped being stupid so italicize and bold work now! As times before, I'd like to remind anybody interested that I do take requests and ideas for any Soul Mate AU's you'd like to see, so leave me a note in the comments and I'll see what I can do.

"I'm confused," Scott said, slouching into the passenger seat of Stiles' Jeep. Stiles inserted his key into the ignition as soon as Scott slammed the passenger side door, maneuvering out of his parking spot. He wasn't going to try and access a solution to any of his best friend's many complex problems until he was safely out of the parking lot.

 

He had a close call with a black Slug Bug, but other than that, he made it out of the parking lot safely. Only when he was turning at the intersection that lead away from the high school did he ask, "Why?"

 

Scott let his head fall against the window glass with a muffled thump. "Allison," he murmured, frowning at the dashboard. "I thought soul mate dreams were supposed to end when you kissed your soul mate."

 

"They are," Stiles confirmed, flicking on his blinker and taking a slightly illegal turn to avoid getting tail gated by a tan Chevy pick up truck. A horn blasted to his left, and he winced at the sound before switching lanes to get out of the way of the asshole.

 

"Then why am I still having them?" Scott asked frustratedly, pounding the side of his fist lightly against the window. Stiles frowned a bit, because he still remembered the last three times Scott had broken his window accidentally with his werewolf strength, and if it happened again, he was going to lose his shit.

 

"Maybe Allison's not your soul mate," Stiles suggested, and Scott turned to him and glared, his eyes flashing bright yellow. Stiles put a hand up in submission, still keeping one eye on the road and one hand on the wheel. "Okay. Okay. So maybe you have another one."

 

"Another what?" Scott asked, his tone halfway between grumpy and confused.

 

"Another soul mate," Stiles said, pressing lightly on the breaks as they approached another stop light. "Like a threesome, you know? I've heard about cases like it before. Does this person you're dreaming about even look like Allison?"

 

After a few minutes of silence in which Stiles successfully navigated the after-school traffic rush with practiced ease, he had enough time at a stop sign to send a look a bit longer than a glance over at Scott. He was sitting perfectly still, looking like a bolt of lighting had just come down from the heavens to strike him personally. Obviously he was having a moment of revelation. Stiles chuckled, and that seemed to bring Scott out of his shock-riddled haze.

 

"What about you?" Scott pushed. "Soul dreams yet?"

 

Stiles shrugged. "Nah. I'm not that worried, though. There are plenty of people who find love without ever meeting their soul mate. Plus, I don't exactly make it a point to shake hands with everybody I meet." He gave Scott a meaningful look, and his friend turned pink in the cheeks.

 

Stiles pulled into the library parking lot, quickly finding a vacant spot and letting the Jeep's engine halt with a twist of the key. Scott turned to him, frowning, and asked, "What are we doing here?"

 

Stiles reached over a rifled through his bag until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed the three books he'd checked out earlier for AP Government, and waved them in Scott's face. "Just dropping these off," he reassured his best friend. "It will literally take, like, ten seconds."

 

Stiles pushed the Jeep's door open and tried not to trip while getting out of the car. He half-ran, half-jogged across the parking lot, waving a hand in thanks at the silver Volvo which screeched to a stop to avoid running him over. He hopped up onto the curb, keeping the books secure in his hold, and one at a time, dropped them into the little outside slot.

 

Stiles wheeled around once he was finished, totally not prepared to run into a wall of muscle that was suddenly just there, directly behind him. His forehead rammed into what seemed to be somebody's nose, and the sound of books hitting pavement reached his ears as he stumbled back. The force of which he had rebounded off the person's chest sent him stumbling back to find support of the library's wall, where he could safely peer at the person he'd just run into.

 

The man was around his height, maybe half an inch taller, but was twice as broad as Stiles, and about four times as muscular. He gave Stiles a look that could only be described as a glower, his books laying at his feet. "Sorry!" Stiles yelped, without really thinking about it, and dropped to his knees to gather the stray books. He started setting them in a neat-ish pile, and in a few seconds, the man joined him in gathering the books.

 

The man grabbed both stacks of books up in his arms, gave Stiles a slight glare, though it wasn't as harsh as it could have been, and brushed past him. He disappeared through the library doors in a couple long strides, while Stiles tried to quit being dumbstruck at the quick turn of events. His heart was beating harder than it should have been.

 

Finally he shook himself to his senses and turned on his heel, heading for the Jeep. He managed to avoid being run over by the particularly rude driver of a rust red pick up truck, and hopped into the car, shutting the door behind him.

 

"That was longer than ten seconds," Scott told him when he reached for his seat belt. Stiles made a face at him while he inserted the keys into the ignition and started up the Jeep.

 

"Sorry. I ran into the epitome of 'strong and silent' and had to get around him before he made my head explode with the power of his mind," Stiles joked, maneuvering out of both his parking space, and the parking lot in whole. "So am I dropping you off somewhere or are you going to help me struggle through my AP Calc homework?"

 

"Dropping me off," Scott answered immediately, and Stiles chuckled.

 

***

 

Stiles jerked awake, dripping with sweat. The sheets clung to any bit of exposed skin with salty dampness, which didn't help the heat problem much. With a little effort, he kicked off the covers, and gasped when the cool air hit his warm skin. Clumsily, his fingers skittered across the nightstand until they found his phone, and he brought it in closer to his body, opening a new text to Scott.

 

Somehow, he managed to type out

 

**soul dream dude help**

with a minimum of mistakes. He reached over to set his phone back on this nightstand, and then flipped over and stared up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. Both his heartbeat and his breathing were starting to calm down now, but he was still in a state of shock.

 

The dream hadn't been that much in the way of soul dreams. Just tiny glimpses. The slight upward tug at the corner of somebody's lips. A dark eyebrow arching in incredulity. The smallest flash of a tan, well defined bicep.

 

Stiles wondered how he remembered so much detail. Usually any dreams he had that weren't nightmares tended to be hazy and undetailed. But these...These were soul dreams, and Stiles had never had a dream with a clearer vision. He didn't know what to expect for the ones after.

 

After what seemed an infinite amount of time, Stiles felt his eyelids dropping again, his body limp with tiredness. He didn't know whether he wanted to go back to sleep or not, but sooner or later his eyelids became too heavy to hold open and he fell back into the soft, quiet abyss of sleep.

 

_laughter filled the air as foliage whizzed past...his feet hit the damp forest floor again and again...leaves crunched around him...strong arms wrapped around his waist... he was laughing while he twirled through the air, but his feet weren't touching the ground...he squirmed around to face who was holding him...green-brown-blue-hazel eyes...the lips were soft as they pressed lightly against his own...!!!_

Stiles gasped himself awake again, heaving in breaths like a steam engine. His lips were still tingling from the dream, and the ghost of arms around his waist, holding him just tightly enough, lingered. Stiles groaned in annoyance and tolled over, grabbing his phone and glancing at the small screen. It was 6:42 AM on Tuesday, and there were no new messages. Maybe a tad early, but it was close enough, right?

 

Stiles rolled to his feet, making sure he landed gently on the carpeted floor. He tried to creep across the floor as quietly as possible to his dresser, because just because he couldn't sleep didn't mean his Dad shouldn't get his full eight hours. He managed to get dressed without making  _too_  much noise, and grabbed his phone and his keys before stumbling quietly downstairs. There was still no text reply from Scott, but Stiles figured they could talk on the way to school.

 

Stiles tried to open and shut the front door as silently as possible after grabbing a granola bar from the cupboard. He shivered in the crisp, chilly morning air and started down the walk to his Jeep. His phone beeped with a reply from Scott,  _finally_.

 

**awesome man!!!**

Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

***

 

Scott irrupted into excited chatter as soon as he opened the Jeep's passenger side door. Who did he think his soul mate was? How far had the dreams gone so far? Had he seen his soul mates face yet? Could he tell what gender his soul mate was? What did he think they would be like? How many people had he come into physical contact with in the past forty eight hours?

 

"Okay, okay!" Stiles interrupted him, waving his arms in a gesture for Scott to buckle up and shut up. "Calm down," he told his friend as Scott buckled his seat belt into place. "It's not that big of a deal."

 

Scott opened his mouth, probably with an entire rant contradicting that statement, but Stiles went on before he could get a single syllable out. "To answer your questions, in order off appearance, I have no clue who my soul mate is. The dreams have not gotten very far. I've only seen glimpsed of their face. No, I don't know their gender, have you considered that they might be non-binary. I have no idea what they'll be like, but knowing my luck, they'll probably be douchier than Whittemore. And I don't know about you, but I don't exactly keep a list of every new person I come into contact with. I know it's over one, though."

 

Scott clapped him on the back, a little harder than was comfortable, and gave him what would have been a reassuring smile if Stiles actually needed any reassuring. "Don't worry, buddy. Sooner or later you'll see their face in the dreams, and then we can find them, easy."

 

Stiles gave Scott his most sincere smile, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his tone because Scott really was trying here, no matter if he didn't need the help. "Thanks, buddy. I'm sure I'll be fine."

 

***

 

_He was chasing after somebody...laughter echoed through the forest, mingling flawlessly with the bird calls...everything smelled like sage, apple, lemonade, and cinnamon...leaves and twigs crunched ahead of him...he was chasing somebody...he grabbed them around the waist in a hug and pulled their feet off the ground...together they spun, autumn leaves blurring into a colorful smear around them...the person squirmed around in his embrace...great big amber eyes the color of expensive whiskey, filled with innocence...their lips were soft and warm and pliant under his...!!!_

Derek nearly fell off the couch as he startled awake, almost whacking Laura in the face with a flailing arm. She caught his wrist easily and held it as his breath and pulse gradually slowed back to their normal paces. His remaining family had stopped whatever they'd been doing previously to stare at him with vague interest.

 

"Was that a soul dream?" Derek gasped, meeting Laura's cool gaze with his own slightly panicked one. Her eyes widened and her face split into a happy smile, glancing over to where Peter was sitting in an arm chair, the book he'd been reading previously now set open on the armrest. Cora immediately spilled off the stairs, where she'd been texting one of her friends, so sit next to Derek, staring at him excitedly.

 

Laura caught his gaze again, looking serious but still happy. "Tell me everything you can recall of the dream," she requested.

 

Derek complied, and launched into a long and confusing explanation about how he'd been running through the woods in autumn, but it didn't smell like autumn. It smelled like sage and apple and lemony cinnamon. He'd been chasing somebody, somebody who'd been laughing the most beautiful laugh Derek had ever heard. And when he'd caught the person, they'd spun around and locked eyes and maybe kissed, Derek couldn't really tell.

 

"What did they look like?" Cora demanded, looking the more interested than she ever had in her entire life. "Can you remember?"

 

"Uhh..." Derek trailed off, thinking, but the only thing he could remember were those huge amber Bambi eyes. "Amber," he blurted, without really thinking. "Their eyes. They were huge and innocent and bright amber."

 

"Anything else?" Laura wondered, both her eyes and her voice filled with casual patience.

 

"Maybe," Derek said, mind wandering. He tried to ignore the fact that Peter was looking at him like he was an interesting play toy. "I think they might have been smaller than me. I picked them up pretty easily."

 

"Boy or girl?" Cora practically ordered, before withering under Laura's look of reprimand.

 

"I don't know," Derek answered in a defeated voice, feeling hopeless. 

 

Laura's hand moved from his wrist to his shoulder, rubbing tiny comforting circles over his trapezium with her thumb. "Hey," said she, a tiny smile gracing her lips. "At least you know they're somewhere in Beacon Hills."

 

***

 

Gravel crunched under Derek's feet as he swung his legs out of the Camaro and walked across the asphalt of the high school parking lot. Cora met him on the sidewalk, joined by both Erica and Boyd, but Isaac -- the boy who they'd rescued and subsequently turned after they'd stopped his father's attempts at drowning him in the school pool -- was still changing after lacrosse practice.

 

Boys were already wandering out of the locker room's doors in ones and twos. A particular pair caught Derek's attention for a second, if only because it contained Scott McCall, the wolf Peter had bitten before Laura had gotten Doctor Deaton to destroy his Alpha status, because she didn't believe he deserved it. The wolf who had yet to come to the Hale Pack for help, and yet somehow wasn't tearing the town apart during full moons.

 

Cora noticed Derek's curious gaze and followed it, her lips curling into a smile once she noticed who it was directed at. Derek saw her ears perk up, and reluctantly listened to see what she was so interested it.

 

"Dude," the other boy said to Scott, raising an eyebrow at his friend. "It's totally Isaac."

 

This caught Derek's attention, because the probability of them talking about a different Isaac was low. Erica and Boyd were listening in on the conversation as well, Derek could see, so that made four of them. He really hoped Scott was too enraptured with the conversation to notice.

 

"It could be somebody else besides Isaac," Scott protested, his cheeks turning a slight pink color. He ducked his head away from his friend to hide the blush, and scuffed the sole of his tennis shoe against the ground.

 

The other boy laughed, scoffing, and reached out a hand to clap Scott on the shoulder. "Yeah, buddy. Just keep swimming in that river of De-Nial. Just don't come crying to me for an inter-tube when you start drowning." The other boy looked beyond Scott and his face split into a smile. He raised a hand and yelled, "LATER ISAAC!" catching the attention of the boy who'd just emerged from the locker room.

 

Isaac raised his hand, a tad hesitantly, and waved. "Bye Scott! Bye Stiles!"

 

Scott grabbed his friend's wrist and pulled him away. The other boy turned away from everybody and both of them sauntered towards a powder blue Jeep near the end of the parking lot. Derek maybe stared a little longer than he should have, but none of the four high schoolers noticed, so it was fine.

 

***

 

This time, it wasn't Derek who fell asleep on the couch, but Isaac. Derek noticed that he seemed to be sleeping a little more restlessly than normally, but since he wasn't whimpering or screaming for his father not to lock him in the freezer (Derek would kill that man if he hadn't already been killed while trying to escape the police) and Derek figured he could use the sleep.

 

At least, he did until Isaac lurched awake suddenly, exhaling the word, "Scott..." with so much awe in his tone Derek felt uncomfortable. Immediately afterward, he deflated, falling back into the couch while looking defeated.

 

"What's up?" Erica asked, pushing herself up from Boyd's chest too get a better look at Isaac over Derek.

 

"I-" Isaac started, looking like he was on the verge of tears. He slumped back even further, if that was possible, and looked like he was trying to become one with the couch. Cora nudged him with her shoulder, an encouraging smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Isaac sighed hopelessly and muttered, 'I thought I saw Scott's face in my soul dream," his voice was trembling, "But..."

 

"But..." Laura prompted, gracefully getting up from her spot at the kitchen table with Peter and coming to stand right behind the couch. She put her fingers in Isaac's hair and combed them through he curls, and Isaac relaxed marginally.

 

"He already has a soul mate," Isaac whispered dejectedly, curling his knees up to his chest.

 

"Who?" Laura crooned, her fingers still caressing Isaac's hair and keeping him calm.

 

"Allison Argent," Erica piped up from the couch, making a face. "The hunter girl. The entire family found out about Scott's werewolf status when that asshat Jackson Whittemore clued them in on it after Scott didn't bite him. Daddy Argent got angry because his little girl was dating a werewolf and they tried to run him over, but somehow they worked something out, and I'm pretty sure he has a truce with them now. I don't get why he didn't just kill Jackson, because we all know we'd be happier without him, but I guess that's just the way McCall rolls."

 

"Are you sure that they're not just dating?" Laura asked, looking at Erica, Boyd, and Cora for any hints. 

 

"Oh yeah," Erica went on. "Scott's best friend, Stiles, is kind of my friend. I had a crush on him before the whole..." she motioned to herself, Boyd, and then the entire Pack in general. "Scott is definitely soul bonded to the Argent girl. If the confirmation from Stiles wasn't enough, they get all mushy and gross every time they're within ten feet of each other. Unfortunately, the hallways aren't eleven feet wide."

 

Laura frowned. "Soul dreams never lie, Isaac. And it would be so lucky if it was Scott, because we'd have another Pack member and he would have some guidance that he hasn't yet sought out." She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "Just wait, pup. We'll figure this out together." 

 

Isaac sniffled, but nodded. "Okay."

 

"In the meantime," Cora said, her eyes lighting up from the inside as she sent a sly look in Derek's direction. "You can help us grill Derek about  _his_  soul dreams, right?"

 

"Right," said Erica, leaning forward, and Derek realized it had been a futile hope that just because she'd been out with Isaac and Boyd when Derek had gotten the first dream, didn't mean Cora wasn't going to tell her everything. Still, it was a good opportunity to cheer Isaac up, so he took it. His soul mate had big, perfect, whiskey-colored eyes that practically shone with playful energy. Derek was fairly certain that his soul mate was male, and around the same height as him, but much, much skinnier and leaner. He smelled like sage and apple and cinnamon, and his laugh was the best sound Derek had ever heard. 

 

With every detail, his Pack, both adopted and not, became more and more hopelessly lost in the "romance" of these little details, these simple facts. Derek rolled his eyes and yawned, feigning tiredness as an excuse to get out of the room. One of them called after him, "yeah, go dream some more about your amber-eyed Prince Charming," but Derek didn't know who it was, so he couldn't yell back a proper comeback.

 

***

 

_He was being carried up a flight of stairs...the person carrying him was abnormally well-muscled...the arms holding him were warm, he felt safe...he stared up and saw the same mixed color eyes as before...blue on the edge of the iris, green right after that, hazel slowly creeping in, and brown framing the pupil...dark stubble covered a perfectly symmetrical jawline...high, sculpted, perfect cheekbones...those beautiful multicolored eyes flashing bright blue...!!!_

Stiles literally yelped himself awake in Shock, loud enough to wake Scoot, at least partially. His werewolf of a best friend groaned and helpfully mumbled, "Who's killing you?" before turning over and burying his head into the pillows.

 

"Thanks," Stiles said dryly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Scott's prone form. "I love how much you genuinely care for my health and well-being. Also, my soul mate's a werewolf. Just thought you should know."

 

This statement made Scott raise his head slightly and blink blearily at Stiles. "Wha...?" he mumbled.

 

"Yeah," Stiles said, smirking slightly at Scott's impressive bedhead. "With stubble apparently, so I'm at least 97 percent sure he'd a dude. "How many male werewolves were in Beacon Hills three to five days ago and were in places were they could bump into me without me noticing their werewolfiness?"

 

Scott mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "twenty thousand" before rolling over again and practically suffocating himself with the pillow. Stiles sighed and flipped himself over onto his side, squirming around to get comfortable, because this was going to be a  _long_  night.

 

_He was laying on a warm deck...the taste of cherries rich on his tongue...a warm hard carded through his hair...beautiful multicolored eyes, this time the green dominating all the other colors...he didn't think anybody should be allowed to have stubble that sexy...short, dark, soft hair between his fingers...he pulled down on the hair...a warm chest pressed against his own...he felt his lips twist into a smile while they pressed against somebody else's...he licked his lips gently when they pulled away...a warm hand touched his shoulder gen-_

Stiles was awakened by his best friend nearly slapping him in the face with a flailing arm. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and dodged another panicked, flailing arm, grabbing Scott's shoulder. "Scott!" he yelled, getting his friend's attention. "Hey, man. It's me, Stiles. What's wrong?"

 

"Dude," Scott said, grabbing Stiles' biceps a bit too hard. "You said there can be three way soul bonds?"

 

"Yeah?" Stiles said carefully, because he was pretty sure he knew where this was headed.

 

"Because I totally just saw Isaac's face in my soul dream," Scott continued. "Is that bad? What should I do? Oh my god, Stiles!"

 

"Okay, okay," Stiles said, patting Scott's shoulder lightly, hopefully in a comforting manner. "This is fine. I mean, you don't just get one soul mate, like most people. You get two! Isn't that awesome!"

 

"I guess," Scott agreed nervously. 'What do I do?"

 

"Don't worry, man," Stiles reassured him. "It's Friday night," technically Saturday morning, but whatever. "Why don't we try and get a full night's sleep, and then call Isaac in the morning. We've got the entire weekend, Scott. I'm sure we can figure something out. Okay?"

 

"Okay," Scott agreed nodding. "Let's go back to sleep."

 

"There we go," Stiles agreed, grinning. He lay back down, and Scott mirrored his actions. He gave Scott a final encouraging look before his eyes dropped shut and he fell back into a -- for better of for worse -- dreamless sleep.

 

***

 

Stiles decided it would be better to call Erica, who was kind of his friend, than to call Isaac, who barely made the cut for "acquaintance" on Stiles' friend scale. Scott was torn between wasn't to call Isaac first thing in the morning and procrastinating until the problem either became worse or went away completely. Stiles forced all him to suffer through a very healthy dinner with his Dad before they made the phone call.

 

She picked up on the third ring. "Hey, Batman," she greeted.

 

"Hey Catwoman," he replied, without even having to think about the response. It was instant. His next words, however, were carefully chosen. "So, is Isaac there?"

 

"Yeah," she answered easily. "We were just about to eat breakfast when you called. Why?"

 

"He's the boy of Scott's dreams," said Stiles, and he could hear, or rather, not hear, Erica's shocked silence. "Yeah, I know, Allison and stuff, but I researched it, and there  _is_  such thing as a three-way soul bond. So can I talk to him?"

 

"Uhh..." Erica trailed off. "Uhm, sure."

 

Stiles tossed the phone to Scott almost immediately, to avoid the awkwardness of talking to Isaac when Isaac would obviously be eager to speak to Scott. Scott gave him a panicked, betrayed look before reluctantly putting the phone to his ear. "He-eey, Isaac," he said nervously.

 

"Scott!" Isaac yelped, loudly enough for Stiles to hear even  _without_  super werewolf hearing extraordinaire.

 

"Hey," Scott said again, glancing worriedly at Stiles with those chocolate brown eyes that could inspire pity even from Jackson Whittemore.

 

Stiles didn't hear what Isaac said, being a normal person with no super hearing and all, but Scott replied, "Yeah, I am, I guess." There was some silence, where Stiles assumed Scott was speaking, and then Scott said, "Yeah, I know, but Stiles says that there's such thing as a three-way soul bond...maybe you and Allison will bond too. Have you ever touched- er, had physical contact with her before?" Scott paused, fidgeting awkwardly, and investigated the small lamp on Stiles' nightstand. "No? Maybe you guys should...get together sometimes. I'm sorry, I'm bad at this."

 

Scott took the phone away from his ear. "What should I say?" he hissed at Stiles desperately.

 

"You guys should meet up today," Stiles suggested. "Like, talk to each other while in each other's presence. Ask."

 

Scott looked like he was about to start protesting, but then thought better of it and put the phone back to his ear. "Hey, Isaac? Do you, maybe, want to like, meet up, today or whatever?" Isaac's answer made Scott deflate like a balloon. "Oh, well, that's good that you're spending time with your family." Next, Scott perked up like an excited puppy who smelled steak. "Really?" Stiles felt like he was watching somebody with severe mood swings on fast forward. "That's great!" Scott exclaimed. "Do you," Scott glanced sideways at Stiles. "Do you think I can bring Stiles?"

 

Stiles felt his eyes widen, and he shook his head at Scott, because seriously, this was supposed to be Scott-Isaac soul bonding, not Scott-Isaac soul bonding with an awkward and useless third wheel called Stiles. Scott ignored him, his face splitting into a broad smile while he exclaimed, "Awesome! What time?" Stiles made a face at Scott and flailed his arms a little, but despite his friend's enhanced werewolf senses, he failed to notice.

 

"Okay," Scott agreed, nodding despite the fact that Isaac couldn't see him. "Yeah. See you at seven." He hung up the phone and tossed it back to Stiles, who caught it deftly, glaring at Scott. His hand-eye coordination, and his coordination in general, had increased ever since Scott had become a werewolf and Stiles had to beat the occasional baddie out with his trusty baseball bat. Occasionally he preformed a miracle like actually catching the phone. Other times, he wasn't so lucky. Like last week, when Scott had tossed a pencil at him and it had almost impaled Stiles in the eye.

 

"What's going on?" Stiles questioned his friend, giving him a stern look. Scott didn't seem to get it, grinning like he'd just been told that he'd helped save everybody in Africa from starving and now world peace had been initiated.

 

"Isaac was having a bonding day with his Pack," Scott explained. "He wasn't going to be able to meet up with me today, but Laura said it was okay if we joined them for dinner at seven." Suddenly, it was like a dark rain cloud had slid over Scott's personal sun of happiness. He asked, "You know how to get to the Hale property, right?"

 

***

 

Stiles took three wrong turns on the preserve roads before finding his way to the Hale house's driveway. It was in pretty good shape for something that had burned to a husk six years ago, and he couldn't help but be impressed with the well-kept grounds around it, too. Maybe a little too impressed, because he was slightly intimidated.

 

Isaac was waiting outside on the desk, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, along with Erica, Boyd, Cora, and an older dude Stiles thought he recognized as that jerk Peter Hale, the dude who'd bitten Scott. He climbed out of the Jeep nervously with Scott, who suddenly looked like he was ready to bolt into the forest after being as excited as Isaac looked all throughout the day.

 

"Hey Batman!" Erica called, waving a little at Stiles. Stiles returned the gesture, feeling a little bit more comfortable, and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and climb the small path up to the wrap-around patio, and therefore, the front door. Scott and Isaac exchanged awkward looks, and Stiles glared at Peter, who was lurking in the background.

 

"Come on," Erica encouraged, her fingers interlaced with Boyd's. "We're having Salmon. We were going to have a more casual dinner, like breakfast for lunch, but Laura burned literally everything. Thankfully, Derek can cook fine."

 

Stiles nervously followed Erica and Boyd through the front doorway, Scott, Isaac, Cora, and Peter trailing afterward. Erica and Boyd lead their small parade into the dining room, where two other people were standing. Stiles assumed they were Derek and Laura, and it took him a few moments and a double take before he realized he recognized Derek.

 

The dude from the library. He looked about the same as he had then, and Stiles wondered if that was his normal expression or if he was just having a couple of really bad days, all in a row. Of course, he was a slightly aggressive werewolf whose family had all burned to death a few years ago in a fire, so every day was probably kind of a bad one for him.

 

"Hello," the woman said, stepping forward as if to shake Scott's hand. He stuck his right hand out, and was thoroughly surprised when the woman swept him up in a hug. She turned and did the same to Stiles, who was thankfully prepared after seeing Scoot get hugged. "It's great to meet you both," she told them when she pulled back, and then gestured to the table. "Sit down."

 

They complied, along with Isaac, Boyd, Cora, and Erica. A moment later, Peter, Derek, and Laura sat down as well, with Laura at the head of the table. Stiles stared down at the steak on his plate with a bit of apprehension, because it had been a while since he'd eaten a piece of meat like this because of his dad's forced diet, which he followed to make his dad feel better.

 

The meal started off awkwardly, with Scott having his chair much closer to Stiles' than Isaac's. Erica and Boyd were laughing with each other, while Cora nudged Laura and Peter smirked at all of them equally. Derek seemed to be simmering in his own juices, or whatever, because he just glowered at the table cloth.

 

Slowly, though, Scott's chair moved from almost uncomfortably close to Stiles to nearer and nearer Issac's. Erica started cracking jokes loud enough to the whole table to hear, even without werewolf super hearing, and the atmosphere over all became much more comfortable. There was still something a little awkward about it though, and Stiles knew he wasn't just imagining the nervous looks Laura, Derek, and Peter were sending him occasionally.

 

Finally, when all three adults tensed when Erica made a "going crazy twice a month now" joke, Stiles understood what was up. Without pretense, he said, "So I'm guessing you guys don't know I know about the whole werewolf thing?"

 

Peter looked momentarily shocked, Laura choked on water, and Derek made a shocked growl, which Stiles hadn't thought was possible until now. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Cora were glancing at each other with confused looks, but he knew they all knew he was in on it.

 

"You guys didn't realize?" Cora asked confusedly, and Laura shook her head, coughing a bit.

 

"Well, duh!" Erica said, smirking. "How else do you think Scott would manage the whole werewolf thing?" She nudged Boyd with her elbow. "Do you remember when we caught him pelting Scott with lacrosse balls? I think I still have a video of that."

 

Scott groaned and let his forehead hit the table, while Isaac patted his back and tried not to laugh. Stiles grinned at the memory, chuckling, and stabbed his fork into another bite of steak. "I remember that one. That was fun."

 

"No it wasn't," Scott grumbled into the tablecloth.

 

"No, you know what was not fun?" Stiles asked, poking Scott in the side with his fork. "Handcuffing you to the radiator during your first full moon. And then chasing you down to make sure you didn't kill Jackson because he was trying to flirt with Allison." Stiles turned and pointed his fork at Isaac. "Speaking of Allison...are you as cowardly as Scott and will make me do all the work in arranging that you actually talk face to face with Allison like he did."

 

Scott turned his head to glare up at Stiles, but didn't lift it because Isaac was currently running a hand through his hair. "I talked to her before you even knew her."

 

"Yeah," said Stiles. "Once. And then it took a week of coaxing you that, no, she wasn't going to just suddenly realize that she and you were soul mates, and that you actually had to have a conversation longer than five seconds with her for her to memorize your face, and therefore recognize it in the dream."

 

Erica, Cora, Laura, and Boyd chuckled, while Isaac blushed and muttered, "I think I can talk to her."

 

The dinner went on, but now marginally less awkward because a third of the participants weren't trying to hide the werewolf thing now. The conversation shifted from point to point, but the last remnants of awkwardness left the air when Peter retired to his room. Scott and Stiles were cautious around him, and the rest of them seemed to dislike him, at least a bit.

 

All in all, the dinner was great. Scott and Stiles ended up heading out the door with good food in their stomachs and broad smiles of their faces. Well, at least they were smiling until Stiles remembered that he had forgotten his keys inside. he groaned exasperatedly, told Scott that he would be right back, and turned back to the house, glaring at the ground as if it had done this to him.

 

Stiles had this bad habit of bowing his head and looking at the ground while he walked. He'd researched it, and apparently it happened because of low self esteem and the instinct to avoid long periods of eye contact. Since Stiles was almost as friendly with low self esteem as he was with Scott, this didn't really phase him that much. What did phase him, however, was running straight into Derek Hale's chest with enough force to send him falling backwards.

 

Instead of books hitting the ground, like they had at the library, Stiles' keys hit the wood of the deck, which apparently Derek had been bringing out for him. Derek caught Stiles' wrist before he fell down the small set of stairs that led up to the deck, but pulled him in maybe a little to close to do so. Stiles ended up stumbling an extra step because of the werewolf's strength, and practically falling right into Derek's chest.

 

Derek was only about half an inch taller than Stiles, but thanks to Stiles bad habit of bowing his head all the time, Derek's jaw was about level with Stiles' nose, rough stubble scraping against his nostrils. Derek frowned visibly, and mumbled something that sounded like "sage and apples" but couldn't be, because that made very little sense.

 

"Sorry!" Stiles yelped, almost on impulse. He took a dangerously large step back, his feet halfway hanging off the first steep. Stiles pulled his wrist out of Derek's firm grasp, and dropped to his knees, searching on the deck with his fingertips for his keys.

 

"You, uhm, forgot your keys," Derek said awkwardly from above him.

 

"I got that," Stiles said, his fingers closing around his key ring in the dark. He scrambled to his feet, and could see Derek's eyes briefly gleam blue in the darkness as he stood. "So, uhm, I'll just be," he motioned violently behind him with flailing arm movements. "Going..."

 

Stiles darted down the steps, practically sprinted to the Jeep, and unlocked the car in record time. He jammed a finger at the thing that would unlock all the other doors, so Scott would get in, and desperately fought the small blush rising to his cheeks. That had to be the most awkward exchange Stiles had ever experienced,  _ever_.

 

"So, your house?" Stiles asked when Scott buckled his seat belt and shut the door, glancing over to his friend and hoping his cheeks weren't pink. Scott nodded, smiling, but didn't mention anything. Stiles exhaled in relief.

 

***

 

Two weeks passed, and Stiles still hadn't had more than a tiny glimpse of his soul mate's face, though he was getting increasingly familiar with the rest of his body. Stiles knew he was well toned and smelled like pine and cedar and sometimes something muskier. Something Stiles couldn't exactly place. The dreams were getting a hell of a lot more vivid, though, and Stiles got almost all of the details, so he was pretty sure the face would come soon.

 

He had stubble, and a well defined jaw underneath that. his eyebrows and hair were dark and thick, and Stiles liked the way it felt between his fingers, or at least his dream fingers. Not to mention the absolutely stunning eyes, which never failed to rob Stiles of his breath, whether they be multicolored or bright blue.

 

Isaac, Scott, and Allison, however, had never been better. Turns out that is was a three way soul bond deal, and once they'd all kissed and had their merry celebration, bada bing bada boom, no  more soul dreams. Of course, there were some awkward moments when Allison's dad found out that both of her soul mates were werewolves, not just the one. But thankfully they had convinced him to put the gun away.

 

Stiles was happy for all of them. Really, he was. Still, the thing meant that he was spending a lot more time at the Hale house than helping Erica with the occasion science project. It meant that he had several extended dinners with the Hale Pack while Scott told them every single story about how Stiles had helped him out with a baseball bat. It meant that while Scott, Isaac, and Allison made goo goo eyes at each other, and Erica and Boyd cuddled, he was left with Derek, Cora, and Laura, because he refused to go within five feet of Peter after he bit Scott and almost bit Stiles.

 

Except it didn't exactly work out like that, because Cora would go out to friends' houses, and Laura would be managing Pack stuff with the other werewolves around the territory, so Stiles ended up sitting in awkward silence with Derek, or reading next to Derek, or watching TV next to Derek, or attempting (and failing miserably) in having an intelligent conversation with Derek, because he tripped over his words.

 

Stiles had read somewhere that extended periods of close proximity with somebody could increase trust in a relationship, and by relationship it meant friendship, or two or more acquaintances, or maybe romantic partnership. And the close proximity thing seemed to be working it's magic between him and Derek, because slowly he became more comfortable around him until they could have a quiet conversation longer than five minutes without Stiles stuttering and/or trying to die of embarrassment.

 

Of course, the really fun nights were when they all did a "Pack bonding" thing, like playing Monopoly (which they didn't do anymore, because Stiles always won) or Clue (the same thing as Monopoly), or watched a movie (which they could do, as long as it wasn't Marvel or DC). 

 

Stiles feel asleep half way through the movie, because he'd had a long night last night with Psychology homework. Of course, he had to fall asleep with his head leaning against Derek's shoulder, and thank goodness Derek was already asleep because of werewolf training with Scott, Cora, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd earlier that day, because otherwise he would have pushed Stiles off and probably made him fall off the couch.

 

_He was standing abs deep in cool water, but since the sun was at a blistering heat, the temperature was perfect. He was laughing, of course, and run-swimming through the water as somebody splashed him from behind. The sand was squishy and unstable beneath his toes, and the kept almost slipping, but he persisted in running until particularly large splash of water came from behind._

_He whirled, dipping his hand in the water and sending a huge scoop back to where the person who'd just splashed him was standing. They shrieked and fell back, and he knew this, but for some reason couldn't see or hear them. He continued splashing them with water, and them and a few other people returning, until they tired and went back to shore. But he wasn't tired yet, so he went further into the water and swam around a little._

_He was floating on his back, lazily looking up at the blue-green-hazel-brown sky with a pupil for the sun, when he felt a small change in atmosphere. Not bad, though, but nice, so he stayed where he was, trying not to giggle with sudden elation for no apparent reason._

_He shrieked in surprise when he was suddenly picked up out of the water by strong arms around his waist. He'd floated far enough out so that when the person set him down, only his pectorals and up were out of the water. The same was the case for the person opposite of him, but he could feel the opposite person's toes with his own in the sand._

_He lifted his hands out of the water, letting them float on the surface, and then slowly they traveled to the the other person's chest, fingers trailing out towards his well defined biceps, and then back up, sliding up either trapezium and to his jaw, where the stubble he was so used to was. He trailed his fingers across it before bringing them up higher, past high cheek bones and a normal nose, over those big, expressive eyebrows, turning down after he reached the broad forehead, and back down to the corners of those multicolored eyes that matched the odd sky now._

_Derek Hale._

Stiles hit the floor with a heavy thud, knocking his head on the floor boards so hard it hurt, even through the carpet. It appeared Derek had woken up the same time as he had, because the older werewolf was in a different position than he had fallen asleep in, and looking very disoriented.

 

Stiles rubbed his head, scowling at the tender spot, as their friends reacted to them waking up in such a sudden and wild manner. "Dude!" Scott exclaimed, falling to his knees near where Stiles had gone down. "Hey, you okay?"

 

Stiles head was spinning, but it made the connection quick. He'd run into Derek at the library approximately nine hours before he'd had the soul mate dream. He obviously hadn't run into Derek before that, though he had heard of him, but hearing of him wasn't what made the soul mate dreams start. Physical contact did. Which they'd had. At the library.

 

Derek's eyes went blue all the time, just like in his dreams. He definitely had the stubble, and the musculature figure was hardly questionable. He had dark hair, duh, and when Stiles tried to think of something in the soul dream that didn't fit with Derek, he came up with nothing.

 

Slowly, almost against his will, Stiles felt his head tilting up, his eyes moving with it, following invisible trailed up Derek's chest, over his biceps, up the side of his neck, until they locked with Derek's eyes. Blue on the outside, then green, hazel creeping in, and the pupil ringed by a beautiful line of chocolate brown.

 

Stiles blinked, and said, "Oh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As times before, I'd like to remind anybody interested that I do take requests and ideas for any Soul Mate AU's you'd like to see, so leave me a note in the comments and I'll see what I can do.

**Author's Note:**

> And, hey, if you have a Soulmate AU you want to see, I'll add it to my list and we'll go from there.


End file.
